


Mind You

by copperwings



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Coworkers - Freeform, Found Family, Kind of enemies to lovers, M/M, Making bets, Mila is awesome, Otabek is stoic, Victor is in love and Yuuri is oblivious, Yuri is snarky, bar workers, blink-and-you-miss-it-Sara/Emil, music venue AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11879664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperwings/pseuds/copperwings
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky works as a sound guy at a music venue calledMind You. He has a reputation of being the resident asshole in their small crew of misfits, and when his manager Victor Nikiforov hires an annoyingly stoic guy named Otabek as a second sound technician and puts Yuri in charge of training him, Yuri does all he can to smoke the guy out of the venue and out of his life. All bets are off, some bets areonand soon Yuri doesn’t know what to think about any of this.





	1. one

“Hey. Hey you!”

The ‘ _you’_ in question turns around on the high barstool and looks at Yuri hopefully. “Yeah?”

Yuri gives the dark-haired male with an undercut a measuring look, and the hopefulness on the guy’s face vanishes slowly, finally being replaced with a blank stare and slight fidgeting before he pushes his hands into the pockets of his black hoodie. Yuri sighs inwardly. This guy won’t last a week. If he even gets the job, that is. “Nikiforov will interview you in his office. Up those stairs.” Yuri points a thumb towards the stairs that ascend from behind the stage to the door that can be seen above the stage.

The hopefulness flickers back to the guy’s face, and he drops down from the high barstool he was sitting on, managing a few steps away before the sound of Yuri clearing his throat meaningfully stops him on the spot. He turns around slowly, looking at Yuri questioningly.

Yuri cocks his eyebrow and nods towards the one stool that stands out from the row of others that are neatly set on the recently cleaned floor. “If you’re gonna stick around, better learn to clean up after yourself,” Yuri states and turns to walk to the sound booth, grimacing at how moving currently makes his head swim. He hears the barstool being hastily pushed into place, and then some even hastier footsteps retreating toward the back of the venue. In the empty hollowness of the venue the sound amplifies, and Yuri flicks a switch on the soundboard to get some music on to cover the all-too-loud silence. The speakers boom to life, and Yuri grimaces both at the music selection and the loudness; it seems that Georgi has been fucking around with the sounds again _and_ he’s messed with Yuri’s playlist. _Again_. Yuri fixes the playlist and checks his settings, cursing when he finds the bass amp defaults and a couple of speakers messed up.

“Georgi!” he yells once he gets some decent music on. He leaves the volume down, though. No use getting Nikiforov at his throat for disturbing job interviews. Also, Yuri’s head is not in the best of conditions to stand awful noise levels right now. “ _Georgi_!” he shouts again. He knows Georgi is in here somewhere, Yuri saw his obnoxiously melodramatic man-purse on the bar just moments ago.

There’s a bang from behind the stage, and soon a messed-up quiff sticks out from behind the corner. “What?”

“Stop fucking messing with my sound board, asshole!” Yuri hollers.

“Oh boo-hoo,” Georgi calls back. “It sounds way better with my settings you know!” he shouts and vanishes with a grin. “You have no artistic view,” he yells from behind the corner when Yuri can’t throw anything at him anymore.

“Maybe you should clean your ears, asshole!” Yuri shouts after him, and the last thing he sees of Georgi is his hand flipping Yuri off from behind the corner.

Someone knocks on the front door. Or well, _knocks_ might be a bit of an understatement, as the front door almost bends under a harsh bang. Yuri drags his ass to the front to unlock the door.

“Don’t break the door, man,” he says when Chris barges in. They bump knuckles briefly at the door and then Chris paces past Yuri, unwrapping a scarf from around his neck as he goes. Yuri locks the door again after him, shivering in the breeze that managed to sneak through when Chris entered.

“It’s fucking freezing outside,” Chris grumbles as they cross the empty venue floor and stop beside the sound booth.

Yuri grins. “Wouldn’t know. I haven’t been outside today.” He’s aware that his clothes could use some laundry detergent and he himself a nice long shower, but whatever. There’s always tomorrow.

Chris laughs. “Slept on the office couch again, huh?”

The phone at the far end of the bar starts ringing, and Yuri glares at it, for the millionth time wishing for the ability to make things hover closer to him, but the phone stays where it is, no matter how much he curses at it inside his head.

“It was easier to come here than try to get home, that’s for sure,” Yuri explains with a yawn as he finally walks over, jumps on his stomach on top of the bar and reaches for the phone that’s hanging off a charger. He taps the green button flashing on the screen. “Club Mind You, how can I help you?” He sighs and looks at the day’s band list, neatly taped on the wall next to the phone, probably by Mila last night because she’s organized like that. “Anime Walrus goes on at eight-forty-five. Yeah. Doors at seven. The first band goes on at seven-thirty. What’s that? Oh, no, Backwards Weasel won’t start playing until ten. Okay. Thanks.”

He hangs up the phone and rolls his eyes. “Jesus fuck, haven’t these people ever heard of the _internet_? They could have checked our facebook page and found the band list and times for tonight. Or our twitter. Or our fucking instagram. It’s all _right there_.” He waves his hands exasperatedly.

Chris, who is lounging on a chair browsing his phone, glances up. “Nope. They couldn’t do that, because then they would have missed the perfect opportunity to make _your_ life a living hell. Don’t you know that everyone in the universe is dead set on annoying you and making your life fucking difficult? That’s the sole reason for the existence of mankind.”

Yuri nods. “Fucking right it is.”

They hear the office door closing across the venue, and when Yuri looks up he sees the dark-haired undercut guy coming down the stairs. He paces swiftly across the open space with a certain happy gleam in his eyes that tells Yuri they’re screwed. The guy stops in front of Yuri and side-glances at Chris who’s spread on the chair in a position that’s positively _obscene_ , because no one’s legs should be spread that wide if it’s not for sex or yoga.

The guy smiles, the corners of his mouth twitching up just a bit as if he doesn’t know if it’s okay to look happy in Yuri’s presence. He opens his mouth, but before he can get anything out, Yuri cuts in. “Okay, so you got the job. _Great_. Now let me lay down some rules, okay?”

The small-to-begin-with smile diminishes by a few notches, but still doesn’t disappear entirely. “Okay,” the guy says. “My name—“

“Rule one. I don’t need to know your name. You will be New Guy, and you’ll answer to that name, is that clear? If you manage to _not_ get your sorry ass fired within a month, I might be assed to learn your fucking name. But until that, don’t bother.”

The smile has almost vanished, and New Guy just gives a tiny nod to acknowledge Yuri’s words.

“Great,” Yuri continues. “Rule two. That there,” he points, “is my sound booth. You do not touch anything in there unless I say so. In fact, you don’t even go _in_ there without me present. Clear?”

“Clear,” New Guy mumbles.

“Awesome. Also, don’t talk to me unless I talk to you first. Do not talk to band members unless they talk to you first. And as for the bartenders…”

“I don’t talk to them unless they talk to me first,” New Guy mutters in a resigned tone.

“Wrong.” Yuri beams. “You can talk to those losers all you want. I couldn’t care less.” With that he turns around and marches back to the sound booth. He watches the New Guy shuffling around awkwardly for a bit but finally he disappears from sight and Yuri hears the front door closing after him.

Chris comes to stand by the booth and cranes his neck to see the copy of a shift list someone—Yuri guesses Mila—has taped on the wall next to the soundboard. “Why am I here?” he groans.

Yuri quirks an eyebrow. “Because you walked in through that door. It works the other way as well, y’know? You can leave if you’re not on shift.”

“I meant this early.” Chris wrinkles his brow as if trying to remember something. “Oh, right. Nikiforov told me to come in at three even though my shift doesn’t start until five. Said he needs someone to move those boxes in the basement, they’re blocking one of the fire exits.” Chris sighs and looks at the time on his phone. “So I guess I should get to it. Besides, like you don’t hang around all the time even when you’re not working. Like, say, _now_.” Chris grins and starts heading toward the back where the door to the basement is hidden under a coating of band posters and stickers.

“Hey, without that fucker appearing for a job interview I would still be sleeping soundly on the couch, but Nikiforov kicked me out. Said that it doesn’t give a _good impression_ to have a job interview if the sound guy is sleeping in the same room where the interview is being held.” Yuri rolls his eyes and mutters to himself, “I bet Yakov has been crawling up his ass about me sleeping over here again, he wouldn’t be so hissy about it otherwise.” He steps out of the sound booth and stretches in the midst of the empty floor space.

As if on cue, Victor Nikiforov appears from the office, cracking his neck as he walks down the stairs and across the venue floor to Yuri. “Plisetsky,” he calls from a few feet away, and his voice is absolutely _too loud_ for Yuri’s ears right now. “Don’t you fucking have your own apartment?”

Yuri shrugs. “Sure I do. But it’s easier to walk in here and crash if it’s three AM and I need to be here in a matter of eight hours anyways to receive the beer order someone told me to take care of.” Yuri grins at Victor’s sour expression.

“I should take that set of keys back,” Victor mutters annoyedly. “You know Feltsman doesn’t like people hanging around outside hours.”

Yuri shrugs unapologetically. “Sorry, boss.”

Victor rubs his temples. “Whatever. Go get me some coffee and I might forgive you.”

Yuri makes a mock-curtsey in front of him and strolls to the front, snatching his jacket from where it's hanging over the edge of the sound booth. He pulls the jacket on and stops at the door. “The usual?” he asks before unlocking the door.

“Yeah,” Victor agrees with a nod. “Oh and hey? That guy I just hired, he’s gonna be here tonight to see how things roll. Show him around and tell him how things around here work, okay? You're responsible for him.”

Yuri turns at the door and his jaw drops. “Are you fucking kidding me? Victor, c’mon, please, you can't—“

“I can and I will. You can view it as me getting back at you for sleeping here all the time. Feltsman constantly bitches to me about it, so I’m just _transferring_ the sentiment.” Victor looks at Yuri sternly. “Otabek will be here at six, as well as the first band for their sound check. Be present.”

Yuri blinks. “Otabek?”

“The new guy,” Victor clarifies. “And now go get me some coffee.”

“Whatever,” Yuri snaps, rolling his eyes as he pushes the front door open. A freezing gust of wind greets him outside, and Yuri pulls his coat tighter around him. Chris wasn’t lying about the weather being fucking unbearable. He walks over to the nearest coffee shop and pulls the door open, slipping inside and shivering in line for a moment before ordering Victor’s coffee and some herbal tea for himself. Yuri can’t do caffeine when he’s hungover, it makes him feel nauseous and twitchy beyond belief. Armed with a tray of three steaming cups—Yuri is not a complete asshole and he knows Chris likes coffee—Yuri heads back to the venue.

At the door he has to stop to open it with the very set of keys Victor just threatened to remove from him. Yuri knows he won’t do it, though. Victor might grumble and moan about Yuri sleeping in the office but secretly he likes it that he can call Yuri and tell him to go open the doors for the beer guy so he won’t have to. It’s convenient for Victor to have someone else who has keys to the club; it gives him more leeway, that asshole. And Yakov is away on business so much that he hardly remembers this small venue exists. So, Victor’s complaints about Feltsman bitching about something are usually more or less stuff Victor himself feels the need to point out, but he hides behind Feltsman’s back in those cases, naming his own words as rules from the higher authority. It’s always been like that and will probably continue being like that, at least as long as Victor Nikiforov manages Mind You.

When Yuri gets inside, Chris is nowhere to be seen. He must still be in the basement moving the boxes that have been cluttering the space for weeks now.

“Hey man, got you some coffee,” Yuri hollers down the basement stairs.

There is a bang and a muffled curse from somewhere below. “Chris?” Yuri shouts. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Leave the coffee on the bar, I’ll grab it in a few,” Chris shouts back. “Sonofabitch boxes… Thanks for the coffee, appreciate it!”

“No prob,” Yuri calls before leaving Chris’s coffee on the bar and climbing up to the office to give Victor his. The manager is on the phone, and he just soundlessly nods and motions Yuri to leave the coffee on his desk, which Yuri does before loitering back down with his tea. The couch in the office is actually rather comfortable, and Yuri would like to be horizontally on it right now. His headache is starting to make itself known, meaning the alcohol he poured down his throat last night is finally wearing off. Yuri saunters across the floor to the bar and sits on one of the chairs, rubbing his forehead tiredly.

“Hi,” a voice greets Yuri, startling him. Mila’s red head pops up from behind the bar where she was crouching, putting bottles of beer into one of the fridges.

“Hi,” Yuri mutters and lowers his chin on his hands that are resting on the bar. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” Mila says and opens another case of beer with a box cutter. “I was supposed to restock the fridges last night but I was so tired I figured I’d come in early today to do it.”

“Why does everyone insist on hanging around when they’re not working is beyond me,” Yuri mumbles and leans his cheek against the polished wood of the bar.

“Now _that’s_ pot calling the kettle black if anything is, honey. I made the shift list, I know you’re not on the clock right now.” Mila’s tone is teasing.

“Whatever,” Yuri grumbles.

“Hungover?” she asks cheerfully, leaning on the bar, and Yuri nods miserably. “Well, what else is new?” Mila rolls her eyes playfully and winks.

“Absolutely fucking nothing,” Yuri groans moodily. He tries to recall how late he came in here to sleep last night, or even where he was before that. He hasn’t really got much of a recollection, but at least he had fun. Or well, he thinks he did. So it must have been fun. Or something. Yuri’s brain feels like it’s turned into a pile of dysfunctional mush that keeps throbbing and throbbing and getting bigger until his head explodes right there, resting against the bar.

What a destiny to lead, he sighs to himself. Death by spontaneous head explosion. He wonders how far around him the splatter would reach, and comes to the conclusion that it would be a range of several square feet at least. Enough to cover the bottles behind the bar in his gray matter and blood. Perhaps even enough to decorate the Jack Daniels mirror on the wall behind the bar with pieces of his skull. Definitely enough to cover Mila in a nice shade of crimson, so she’d match her hair entirely. The thought is so morbidly disgusting that Yuri shakes his head and pushes himself in an upright position.

He leans up a bit to take a look at himself in the Jack Daniels mirror, and grimaces at how disheveled his reflection looks. His hair is matted at the roots and still in last night’s top knot with blond strands sticking out of it in every direction, and his eyes look more than a bit bloodshot. Shower would definitely be in order, but it’s not like he has time to commute home and do that anymore if he has to be babysitting New Guy and some band at six. Fuck Nikiforov for making New Guy Yuri’s responsibility. It’s Georgi who’s planning on leaving, he’s the one who should be training his replacement.

Yuri watches Mila restocking the fridges while he finishes his tea. Then he goes to the sound booth. He doesn’t really need to do anything in the booth right now, but it’s a calming place for him. His own little kingdom where everything is the way he wants it, except on those days when Georgi decides that rock music should sound like Icelandic folk tunes and messes up the settings. Yuri fucks around with the board aimlessly, adding volume to the speakers in the back until he can feel the bass trembling through the walls. He quickly lowers the volume after testing, though, because he doesn’t want Victor to get any bitchier than he already is.

The door behind the bar opens and Seung-gil Lee comes out with a bunch of wires in his hand. He snakes his way below the board covering the entrance to behind the bar, and he always does that, really. Why can’t he just lift the damn board on its hinges like everyone else does? Although, Seung-gil manages to limbo beneath the lowered board just fine and somehow make it look cool, too. Yuri himself usually just slams the board out of his way with an irritated bang, but Seung-gil seemingly prefers remaining quiet about his very existence.

Yuri is not exactly sure what Seung-gil’s job description is, because mostly he just seems to hang around quietly and glare at everyone. In fact, Yuri has never actually seen him _doing_ anything. Seung-gil has worked at Mind You for at least as long as Yuri has, but as far as Yuri knows the serious-looking Korean has done nothing, ever. Seung-gil is just always _there_ , walking around with a bunch of wires or other small equipment with him. What he does with all the wires is a mystery, one that Yuri hasn’t yet solved and in his current state of hangover doesn’t even care to solve.

Yuri realizes someone is standing next to the sound booth. He shakes his head to clear the fog in his mind a bit. “Oh. Hey, Sara,” he mutters to the brown-haired girl standing beside the booth.

“Here,” Sara just says, holding out a hand. Yuri furrows his brow, but extends his own hand. Sara drops two white pills on his palm and smiles sweetly. “Painkillers. You looked like you needed some.”

“Oh, I definitely do need _some_ , but thanks for the pills anyways.” Yuri grins at his own lame joke.

Sara huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re such a douche,” she mutters. “Why do I even bother?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri admits somewhat honestly. Perhaps it’s just Sara being overly sweet, even to people who don’t deserve it. Not that Yuri counts himself in that particular group of human beings, at least most of the time. He’s not _actually_ an asshole. Most people just _think_ he is, and so far Yuri hasn’t bothered correcting their assumptions, because he gets more peace this way. Less stupid chit-chattering and none of that bullshit Georgi receives from the Mind You girls, who giggle and help him his with makeup and hair. Yuri swears that the day they offer to do _his_ hair and makeup will be the day he is going to ask Seung-gil to lend him a wire and hang himself in the bathroom.

Yuri realizes he still has two hours before the first band will appear for sound check. They are local, but what the hell was their name again? Yuri glances around to see if someone has left today’s list in the booth somewhere—he’s too comfortable in his chair to move to the door where there at least is a band list, and even his phone is in his coat pocket, currently out of reach. One of these days he really needs to thank Mila for taping basically anything and everything up on some wall, because right beside the shift list there is a copy of the venue's calendar. _Saturday Jan 25 th: Backwards Weasel w/ De-Oh-Dora-Nt, Anime Walrus & Fast Lane Speed._

Yuri rolls his eyes. Sometimes it feels like the bands are in the middle of a competition of who can come up with the stupidest name for their ensemble.

He steps out of the sound booth and goes over to the bar, where Chris’s coffee is rapidly cooling. Come to think of it, there haven’t been any reassuring crashes and cursing coming out from the basement in a while now. Yuri pads to the wide-open basement door.

“Chris? Are you still alive down there?”

There is a momentary silence during which Yuri is sure that Chris is dead under a pile of wine boxes, but then his voice shouts, “Still kicking! I’m coming up now.”

While Chris drinks his coffee, Yuri hangs at the bar and contemplates if sleeping on the polished wood of the bar would be too much for his back. He can’t go back into the office, because Victor would chew his fucking head off. He can’t go home because he has to be at work in like an hour and a half.

“Life sucks,” Yuri mutters and buries his face into his hands.

“Aww, poor baby,” Mila chirps from behind the bar where she’s folding empty beer boxes and stacking them into the recycling bin. “If you feel like you have nothing to do, you can always take the cardboard out to the back,” she continues.

“Like you said, I’m not on the clock,” Yuri deadpans, but he ends up taking the cardboard to the dumpster at the back of the building anyway.

 

 

~

 

 

When Otabek shows up, Yuri in no way, shape or form lets him know that he actually knows his stupid name. Damn Victor for telling him in the first place. Yuri’s been working at the club for so long that he’s seen a lot of employees come and go. Hell if he is going to be assed to learn all their names, because he’d spend all his time learning the names of people who only stick around for a couple of weeks, if even that.

“Yo,” Otabek actually says when he shows up at exactly six.

Yuri stares at him incredulously, because nobody greets people like that.

Well, nobody aside from fucking _King JJ_ , but that’s another story altogether.

“Uh-huh,” Yuri says in response. “So, have you done sound work before?”

“No,” Otabek deadpans. “I just walked in here and got the job based on my charm alone.”

Oh, _jesus_. Yuri rolls his eyes so hard that people over in the neighboring city can feel it in their bones.

Otabek sighs. “I’ve worked part time in two clubs before, doing sound and light and DJ stuff. Would you like to see my references? Even though I thought I already showed them to Victor Nikiforov when _he_ hired me.” The subtle emphasis lets Yuri know that he was in no way involved in the hiring process.

“Fine, no need to get hissy about it,” Yuri huffs. He stares at Otabek angrily, and Otabek stares back at him with no hint of emotion on his face. Fucking asshole. This is so not going to work out.

To do something, he hands Otabek the club’s schedule for the spring that he happens to have in the booth. “You can look that over to get the general idea of what’s going on here over the next months while I get these dickheads set up for their gig.” He points a thumb toward the stage where the band is setting up their instruments.

Otabek stands beside him while Yuri goes through the usual song and dance of a sound check. The singer of the band stands in front of the mic saying _one-two-three-test_ in monotone until Yuri is happy with everything, and then they play the beginning of a few songs to get the amps set up so people can actually hear something else than just the bass drum and a few scattered guitar riffs.

He notices Otabek nods his head along the songs and his fingers tap in rhythm with the beat. Well, it figures that he has some sense of rhythm and music if he’s done similar work before.

“What exactly is _Stream_?” Otabek asks when they’re done with the sound check and the band has vanished backstage. He points at the club schedule.

“ _Stream!_ is a weekly DJ slash open mic night. It’s hosted by this really obnoxious dude who goes by the name of _King JJ_.” Who only got the hosting gig because his fiancée knows someone who knows someone who knows Yakov, Yuri is pretty sure.

“You have open mic nights?” Otabek asks.

“What did I just say?” Yuri snaps. He turns to fiddle with the knobs of the sound table and there really isn’t enough room for two people in the sound booth. It feels like an intrusion of his private space.

“Are you always this angry?” Otabek asks, and nothing in his expression changes except for a lone raised eyebrow.

“He is!” Phichit calls from behind the bar where he is setting clean glasses in neat towers.

“You stay out of this or I’ll feed your hamsters to Potya,” Yuri calls back and glares at Phichit. Too bad his glaring never affects Phichit in any way. If anything, Phichit’s smile might actually grow wider, if that’s even possible.

“So that’s Phichit,” Yuri says, resigning himself to doing the introductory rounds for New Guy. “He, Mila and Sara are working the bar tonight. Mila is the one with red hair and Sara is the one with purple eyes and a twin brother who can be summoned from the depths of hell by any male who steps within touching distance of Sara.”

“Uh-huh,” Otabek says, his expression carefully neutral. “Who is Potya?”

“My cat.”

“Ah. And here I thought you have a coworker who happily eats hamsters if offered.”

Yuri bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He does _not_ think New Guy is funny, because New Guy probably won’t be here for long. “Anyway,” he continues when he gets his urge to smile under control, “The bouncer at the door tonight is Chris. But you met him today after your interview.”

“The man-spreader of the year?”

“Well, at least he wasn’t cupping his balls like he usually is when he sits like that,” Yuri deadpans.

Otabek looks like he doesn’t know if Yuri is joking or not.

“So,” Otabek mutters. “What’s the exact job description of what you do? Or what I do, for that matter?” Otabek asks. “Because Mr. Nikiforov was kind of vague about it.”

Yuri grins. “Okay, word of advice? Don’t call him _mister_ Nikiforov to his face, he has an age crisis and he thinks it makes him sound older than he is. Just Victor or Nikiforov works.”

Otabek nods slowly.

“And as for the job description, well.” Yuri purses his lips. “I’m responsible for sound and lights, obviously, and semi-DJ’ing music from playlists on the nights when there aren’t bands playing or when it isn’t _Stream!_ night. We alternate with Georgi, but he’s leaving for Iceland to become a musical poet or what-the-fuck-ever. He says it’s his _calling_.” Yuri shrugs. “Additionally, I also do coffee runs and take out the trash and help restock the bar and sometimes even work the door when it’s required.”

He’s had to work the door twice during his entire time at Mind You. Those were the two single most awful nights in his life, because Yuri had to check IDs and smile at people and be polite and welcoming. On the other hand, he also got to kick out a douche who was caught purchasing drinks for his underage friends at an all-ages show. Or well, it was actually Mila who manhandled and then kicked the guy out, but Yuri helped by holding the door.

“So essentially you do a bit of everything?” Otabek confirms.

Yuri sighs. It’s impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t been around, but the core people of this club are his fucking _family_. Sure, it’s a dysfunctional and a fucking weird circus of a family, but it’s family nonetheless. Perhaps that’s why it’s so difficult for new members of the workforce to make the cut.

“We all help each other out,” Yuri simply says, because he doesn’t have the words to explain the unexplainable.

Otabek hums under his breath and nods.

Victor chooses that exact moment to slam open the office door above the stage. He flounces down the stairs and stomps over to the sound booth. “Okay, was it you who ordered a fucking dildo on Amazon and had it delivered to the club under my name?”

Yuri blinks, then bursts out laughing. “No, but I wish it was,” he cackles.

Victor turns around and looks over at the bar, where Phichit, Mila and Sara are standing, trying to look like they don’t want to fall in a heap of giggles. “It wasn’t us,” Mila says and raises both hands in a sign of innocence.

Victor glares at them and then struts over to the front door, shouting, “ _Chris_!”

Yuri gives Mila in inquisitive look, and Mila mouths, _it totally was us_ , before slamming a hand over her mouth to prevent a giggle. She disappears behind the bar and Yuri can hear her laughing all the way to the sound booth.

Otabek looks like he doesn’t know if he’s in the right place and whether this is really happening.

Victor comes back from the front door, fuming. He marches across the venue and up the stairs to the office. At the door, he turns dramatically and says, “Well, whoever bought the fucking thing, hope it wasn’t too expensive because I’m fucking _keeping_ it.” Then he walks into the office and slams the doors shut again.

Behind the bar, Mila makes a giggling noise that sounds like the wheeze of a dying swan.

“Yeah, welcome to the madhouse. Enjoy your stay,” Yuri remarks like this is completely normal.

It kind of is.

“So. Victor is okay, if you overlook his occasional hissy fits,” Yuri continues when Otabek is still standing too close to him in the sound booth and not running out of the door like a sane person should be. “I advise you to stay away from him when Yuuri Katsuki is working the bar, though, unless you want to watch Victor cast doe eyes and flirt endlessly with our Japanese addition to the workforce.” Yuri sighs exasperatedly. “It has been going on since September when Yuuri started working here. Yuuri is of course completely oblivious to all this. We have a running bet of when they’re going to go out on a date if no one tells Yuuri about Victor’s universe-sized crush.”

“What’s your bet?” Otabek asks, sounding amused.

“Valentine’s Day,” Yuri says confidently. “Victor is way too big of a sap to not have something planned for Valentine’s Day. As in, something so grand that even Mr. _Oh-no-one-could-possibly-have-a-crush-on-me_ Katsuki realizes what’s going on.”

Chris appears from the direction of the front door. “Hey Plisetsky, doors in five, better put some music on.”

“Got it,” Yuri says and brings up his playlist for the night. He puts it on shuffle and brings the speakers to life.

“So what’s this about a dildo anyway?” Chris asks, leaning on the sound booth.

“Ask the hag who is currently dying of laughter behind the bar,” Yuri says, pointing toward where Phichit and Sara are both looking down to where Mila is still giggling on the floor behind the bar.

“I hope it was purple and sparkly,” Chris calls to Mila before going back to the front.

“It was pink,” says a weak voice from behind the bar. “ _And_ sparkly.”

“I need to take a leak,” Yuri says to Otabek. “Don’t fucking touch anything.”

Otabek stands back while Yuri steps out of the booth and goes to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, Yuri thinks Otabek might actually be cut out for the job. After all, it’s not even his first official worknight and he’s already witnessed a Nikiforov fit and faced Yuri’s wrath without running out on them.

Not that Yuri is going to tell him any of this.

When the first band goes on, Otabek stands in the sound booth with Yuri and watches him fiddle with the lights. It’s not a very complicated light show, because they don’t have the equipment, but there are a few different settings he can switch back and forth to make it look like someone actually planned the lights beforehand. And at least there is a dramatic spotlight for when the singer sings a slow one with only him and an acoustic guitar, the entire stage drowned in darkness while the lone figure in the middle is lit up in cold white light.

When the first band is done, there’s already some people gathered in front of the stage. It’s by no means a full house, but that isn’t to be expected with bands who are only quarter of the way from nobodies to fame, if even that. Plus the main attraction only starts playing after ten, so most people will probably appear somewhere around that time.

For the second band Yuri has to do sound check over the crowd, which is not his favorite thing to do.

“Can I suggest something?” Otabek asks after watching for a moment as Yuri frantically tries to wave at the singer of the second band that he should say something into the mic.

Yuri glares at him and for some reason _doesn’t_ bite his head off for talking without being talked to. “Fine.”

“I go over there, and when you signal me I tell the band what to do.”

Yuri pouts and huffs, but he has to admit it’s a good idea. They agree on a few easy signals Yuri can show and then Otabek saunters over to the stage and jumps on it. Yuri can see him shaking hands with the singer and talking to him—and he looks like he’s having a good time, laughing at something the singer says.

Yuri seethes, waiting for Otabek to turn and notice him waving his fist with one finger raised. It’s somehow _not_ the middle one, even though Yuri would like nothing as much as flipping the bird to Otabek’s stupid smiling face right now.

When Otabek takes notice, he turns and says something to the singer. The singer points at the mic, laughing, and somehow then it’s Otabek talking into the microphone. “One-two-check. Hi Yuri, is this thing on?” he rattles in complete monotone, but he has a mischievous gleam in his eye and Yuri is going to strangle him with one of Seung-gil’s fucking wires when he comes back to the sound booth.

They get through sound check without further incidents and after that Yuri slams the playlist on shuffle and leaves the booth. He has fifteen minutes before the next band goes on, so he marches up to the bar and asks Mila to hand him a coke in a tone that indicates he hopes he could drink something else along with the coke. Like _all_ the fucking rum in the house.

“So New Guy seems to like it so far,” Mila says, leaning on the bar and batting her lashes at Yuri on the other side.

“He’s fucking annoying,” Yuri mutters.

“You think everyone is annoying, though,” Sara says as she brushes past Mila to grab a bottle from one of the fridges.

“So? That doesn’t change the fact that he is annoying,” Yuri grits through his teeth.

“You’re not a ray of sunshine yourself, you know,” Otabek’s voice says from behind him.

Yuri closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. “Hi, New Guy,” he says pointedly to Otabek and smiles condescendingly.

“Yuri’s always like this,” Mila puts in. “Don’t mind him.”

“Whatever, just give me the coke so I can go back to the booth,” Yuri spits and stomps over to the sound booth with the bottle in hand.

He doesn’t watch, but from the corner of his eye he can see Otabek talking with Mila and Sara at the bar. They are both leaning over the bar and giggling, and Otabek is gesturing with his hands as he talks.

Annoying asshole. Yuri double-checks the sound table settings and then leaves the booth to go check the backstage.

As expected, the backstage is full of half-drunk band members and some giggling girls who think it’s an accomplishment to get backstage with these nobodies.

“Anime Walrus, you’re on in five,” he says loudly to no-one in particular and watches as four people scramble up to their feet and discard their drinks on tables and armrests. One of them discards a giggling girl onto the couch.

Otabek is in the sound booth when Yuri gets back. “Didn’t I tell you not to come in here unless I’m present?” Yuri asks dryly. Without waiting for a reply, he slams the headphones on his head and lets them filter out most of the noise around him.

The band walks on stage and a few of the people in front of it wave their hands excitedly. Yuri listens for a couple of seconds as they start playing, slides a few switches down a notch and then fiddles with the lights as the tempo picks up.

Suddenly there is an extra hand on the board, messing with the lights. Yuri drops the headphones to around his neck so fast the movement hurts his ears.

“What are you doing?” he asks icily.

Otabek looks unfazed. “Helping.”

“I don’t need your help,” Yuri says. “I’ve been doing this for over two years now.”

Otabek looks at him, blinks, pulls his hand back. “Fine.”

Yuri is about to put the headphones back on when he hears the quiet, “I just thought you said everyone here helps each other out.”

New Guy hasn’t even officially started working and he is already guilt-tripping Yuri. _Great_.

When the night is over and the last frantic Backwards Weasel fan has been pushed out the door, Yuri goes back to the booth and turns the lights on in the entire venue. Phichit is already cleaning the floor while Mila walks around with a tray and picks up glasses from the tables. Sara is wiping the bar with soapy dishrag.

Yuri puts his headphones on and tests out a few things for the next day before killing the music.

“So—the name—?“ Otabek’s voice bleeds through the headphones.

Yuri takes the headphones off and hangs them around his neck.

“What?” he asks tiredly. He doesn’t scold Otabek for talking without being talked to, and that’s a second time tonight. He’s slipping, badly.

“The name of the club,” Otabek clarifies. “Where does it come from?”

“ _Mind Your Own Damn Business_ ,” Yuri says.

Otabek rolls his eyes. “Well, sorry for asking.”

Yuri looks down to hide his smile. “No, that’s the official name. _Mind Your Own Damn Business_.”

Otabek stares. “Really?”

“Yeah, Yakov founded the club when his English wasn’t yet very good. They asked him for the name for the business registry, he didn’t quite catch what they asked. He thought they were asking something personal. So the official name is _Mind Your Own Damn Business_ , but it’s not a very catchy name for a bar, so.” Yuri shrugs. “Mind You it is, then.”

“That has got to be an urban legend or something,” Otabek says disbelievingly.

“No, it’s true,” Phichit pipes up from where he’s mopping the floor nearby.

“Well, it’s true, _if_ you wanna believe what Yakov says,” Yuri amends. “I mean none of us were even alive when the club was founded, so it’s impossible to tell for sure.”

“Uh-huh.” Otabek shakes his head slowly. “So what’s next?”

Yuri glances over the venue. “Well, the bathrooms need cleaning…”

In Yuri’s opinion, Otabek’s look of complete desperation at these words is the best thing about this night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://worldofcopperwings.tumblr.com/).  
> -  
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [thoughtsappear](http://thoughtsappear.tumblr.com/) for being there for me. ♥


	2. two

Over the next few days, Otabek seems to be following Yuri around. Well, _of course_ he follows Yuri around, because he’s supposed to be learning the job from Yuri. But it still annoys the fuck out of Yuri that Otabek is always following him around. Otabek and his stupid undercut hair that looks too much like King JJ’s hair, and that slight smirk that always creeps on his face when Yuri gives him shit. Like he doesn’t care at all that Yuri gives him shit, that fucker.

Yuri gives him all the annoying and dirty tasks, just because he can. Otabek gets to crawl under the cramped stage and check the wires because a spotlight keeps misfiring. He comes back covered in dust and specks of sand that have been falling through the cracks of the stage and accumulated over the months since the floor under the stage was last cleaned. Otabek gets to take out the leaking bottle bags from behind the bar, and they drip a mixture of beer and hard lemonade on his shoes. Otabek gets to clean the bathrooms while Yuri lounges at the bar with Mila who is doing a restock list for next week.

There is a sloshing sound and some cursing coming out of the men’s bathroom.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were _trying_ to get rid of him,” Mila says without looking up from the list she’s making. “Can you run to the basement and check how many kegs of Coors we have left?”

Yuri does as he’s told and comes back. “Eight. And I’m not trying to get rid of him. Just showing him the reality of working here.”

Mila gives him a look. “Sure. Okay, we need to order more Coors, because that idiot rapper Spiked K is on next week and he’s bound to attract all the fucking douchey frat boys in town. You know, the type who only drink fucking Coors and fist bump each other and call everyone ‘ _bro’_ ,” Mila mutters, scribbling _Coors_ to her list.

Yuri knows the type. “Ughhh _please_ tell me Georgi is on sound that night.” He wants to stay far, far away from the place when the frat boys descend.

“Georgi is on sound that night,” Mila tells him without even looking at the shift list. But then again, she made the list so she probably knows.

“Ha.” Yuri leans on the bar, grinning. “Let’s see how Spiked K likes it when his rapping starts to sound like folk tunes.”

“I’ll send you a snap,” Mila promises.

“Can you make Otabek suffer through it? Like put him on shift, make him tag Georgi all night?”

Mila glances at him, her pen pausing above the list. “I see you’ve bothered to learn his name.”

Yuri curses inwardly. The name just slipped out, and it’s all Victor’s fault for telling him the name in the first place. “Whatever,” Yuri mutters.

Otabek comes out of the bathroom looking like he went for a swim.

Yuri quirks an eyebrow. “Everything alright there, New Guy?”

Otabek looks at Yuri, completely deadpan, then at Mila exasperatedly. “Mila, why does he hate me so much?”

“Yuri hates everyone,” Mila states. “Go dry yourself, there should be paper towels in the breakroom.”

Otabek vanishes toward the back of the bar.

“Oh, which remind me that we need more paper towels. And peanuts. We need more peanuts. And Doritos.” Mila taps the pen to her chin thoughtfully. “Yuri, go check what flavors of Doritos we have.”

Yuri doesn’t point out that she is way closer to the storage room door than he is, because the storage room door is right behind the bar like three feet away from Mila.

Instead he jumps off the chair and walks behind the bar, slamming the board out of the way so he doesn’t have to limbo to the other side Seung-gil style. He opens the storage room door and glances inside. “There’s cool ranch and nacho cheese,” Yuri states and closes the door.

“How much?” Mila asks, tapping the pen against her list.

“I don’t know, a lot?”

“A lot for you to eat alone or a lot for a bar full of drunken frat boys?”

“Ugh.” Yuri opens the storage room door again. “Two full boxes of each and one opened cool ranch.”

“Thanks.”

Victor comes down the stairs talking on his phone. He’s pulling his coat awkwardly on while trying to balance his phone between his shoulder and his cheek. He’s speaking Russian so it’s probably Yakov on the other end.

Yuri closes the storage room door for a second time and comes to peek at the list over Mila’s shoulder. “Did you order a boxful of sparkly dildos too?” he whispers.

Mila giggles and shoves him. “No, but maybe I should put it on the list just to see Victor’s expression.”

“Yuri,” Victor says when he ends the call. “What happened to New Guy? I saw him walking to the breakroom dripping wet.”

“I think he had an encounter with the third tap in the men’s bathroom.” Yuri smirks.

Victor tries to give him a stern look. “You didn’t warn him about it?”

Yuri grins. “That would have been boring.”

“I really need to get someone to fix that tap, I mean it’s already soaked a couple of patrons and they weren’t too happy about it.” Victor glances at his phone.

Yuri shrugs. “It’s their own fault for being idiots, there is a sign that says it’s broken.”

Victor gives him a look. “And where might that sign be now that you’ve sent New Guy to clean the bathrooms?”

“Maybe it got misplaced?” Yuri looks like the embodiment of innocence.

Otabek comes back just then, looking slightly less like a drowned rat. His shirt is dotted in wet spots and his jeans look like he’s been swimming with them on, though. His hair is still damp and it curls up just a bit at the ends. Yuri thinks it’s unfair how good he looks despite that fact that he nearly got drowned by a faulty tap just minutes ago.

“The tap is fixed,” Otabek says to Victor. “The one that was spraying water all over.”

“Fixed?” Victor asks. “You _fixed_ it? Thank you!” He looks like he wants to hug Otabek but decides against it, what with Otabek’s clothes being soaked through.

“Well, yeah,” Otabek says, shrugging. “It was no problem, really.”

Victor looks at Yuri with a face that says, _we’re so keeping him_ , and Yuri groans inwardly.

“I need to go meet some business associate of Yakov’s for coffee,” Victor says, seemingly remembering he was going somewhere. “Have the restock list on my table by four and I’ll make the orders.”

“Got it, boss,” Mila says with a salute.

“Oh, and order extra Coors, we have that frat-boy-attracting rapper coming here soon, right?”

Mila beams. “It’s already on the list,” she says.

“Awesome.” Victor turns to leave, then turns back to Yuri and damper-than-usual Otabek. “Oh, right. Tonight is _Stream!_ ,” he says.

Yuri nods. “Yeah, Georgi’s doing sound.” It’s Yuri’s night off and he’s looking forward to spending it in the sweet oblivion of some random bar’s rum selection.

“Can you come over either way? Both of you? Just for a couple of hours, you can show Otabek what’s going on and how _Stream!_ nights work.”

Yuri gives Victor a glare. “I can’t,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Why not?” Victor asks. “You hang out here all the time anyway. Hell, you even sleep here most of the time.”

Mila sounds like she’s stifling a giggle.

“Because I’m _busy_ ,” Yuri tries. “You can’t make me.”

“You’ll get paid,” Victor says. “Extra.”

Mila doesn’t even look at Yuri but she manages to elbow him directly in the ribs nonetheless. “Take it. He’s never offered me extra to come over for a couple of hours and do next to nothing.”

“Should I feel special?” Yuri grumbles.

Victor looks at him expectantly.

“ _Fine_ I guess,” Yuri huffs.

“See you both at six!” Victor says happily and skips to the door.

Yuri glances at Otabek.

“Maybe you should go home and change before that.”

Otabek raises one eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “I’ll consider it. Thanks.”

 

 

~

 

 

 

The _Stream!_ night is as expected. Which means it’s an uncontained JJ monologue and hence a fucking train wreck.

When King JJ arrives half an hour before the doors open, he makes a beeline for Yuri. “Yoooo, Plisetsky, good to see you! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you at _Stream!_ for weeks now.”

That _might_ be due to the fact that Yuri has been bribing Mila to give Georgi all the _Stream!_ shifts because he wants to avoid JJ like the plague. The guy is fucking annoying. Like, superstar levels of annoying. If there were Oscars handed out for being annoying, this guy would be raking up all the prizes.

Yuri just stares at him and then points to Otabek. “Here’s New Guy. He’s training for when Georgi leaves.”

Otabek holds out a hand and JJ shakes it vigorously. “I also have a name even if Yuri refuses to acknowledge that,” Otabek says. “It’s Otabek.”

“I am King JJ,” JJ says, beaming. “But you can just call me JJ. I host the _Stream!_ nights. It’s a bit different from your usual night, like sound and light-wise. Much more improvisation.”

“Sounds like fun,” Otabek says and nods. How he can say such statements with such a deadpan face is beyond Yuri. Like, does _nothing_ affect this guy? He got soaking wet in mid-shift and has been taking all the shit from Yuri and then he meets the most obnoxious guy on the planet, and yet he’s all stoic presence and stony expressions and deadpan ‘ _sounds like fun_ ’ comments.

_Ugh_. Yuri walks away, leaving Otabek to deal with JJ. He goes over to the sound booth where Georgi is setting up for the night. “Let me see the schedule,” Yuri says, holding out a hand.

Georgi hands the cursory list he’s gotten from JJ. Yuri looks it over. There is some scheduled stuff but mostly it’s just time slots for the open mic. There aren’t many names in the slots yet, but usually the list up fast when the doors open.

“So how does one sign up for the open mic?” asks Otabek who has shaken JJ off and appears beside Yuri.

Yuri shows him the list. “Like this. You can message JJ ahead on his twitter if you have special equipment that needs to be set up so he can figure the best time for that, but other than that it’s strictly on a first come, first serve basis. The list is posted at the door and people can sign up when they come in. Usually the slots between ten and eleven are the ones to go first because it’s not too early so there’s an audience but not so late that the audience has already gotten too drunk or bored and left.”

“Do you get a lot of people performing?”

Yuri shrugs. “Pretty much all the time slots have been filled in the previous events.”

Mind You may be a small venue, but it’s well-known in the music circles so they get a lot of beginner musicians seeking their first opportunity to perform in front of an audience. It’s also no secret that sometimes labels send representatives randomly over to their open mic night to scope out possible new artists. As far as Yuri knows, the amount of record deals made based on _Stream!_ nights has, over the years, reached well into the double digits.

Yuri cranes his neck to see the shift list taped on the inside of the sound booth. Emil is working the door, probably because Chris tries to avoid JJ about as much as Yuri. Leo, Yuuri and Sara are working the bar. Yuri smirks at the shift list. Mila’s name is missing from the roster almost as often as Yuri’s when it’s _Stream!_ night, and Yuri doubts it’s a coincidence.

Yuuri is slicing lemons behind the bar, which is most likely the reason why Victor is hanging around the venue floor and not hiding in his office. Victor has a fucking clipboard and he pretends to be checking something around the stage, but Yuri can see he’s not actually doing anything besides gawking at Katsuki, who is happily slicing away and humming under his breath.

“Jesus, those two,” Yuri mutters under his breath.

“Still no date?” Otabek asks.

Yuri shakes his head. “But Valentine’s Day is in about two weeks. I’m going to win this fucking bet.”

He knows Victor better than anyone else working here. Victor was the one who hired him, even though Yuri gave him shit at the job interview and had next to no experience working at a music venue. Victor is a big sappy shit, Yuri knows this. He will have something planned for the Hallmark Holiday of romantic hell.

JJ jumps on the stage and yells at Georgi that he needs to test the mic. Georgi’s expression is faraway, like he’s halfway to Iceland already, but he obediently adds volume to the mic JJ is holding.

“All right, party people!” JJ shouts into the mic, and it sounds even more ridiculous when the venue is empty than it does when there’s an actual audience.

Otabek’s expression neutral, but Yuri thinks he sees Otabek’s eyebrow twitch just a bit when JJ finishes his sound check with his usual catchphrase, “It’s JJ style!”

“We also had a running bet at one point about how many times in one _Stream!_ night JJ is going to use that phrase,” Yuri says. “We had to stop because no one actually wanted to keep count after he hit thirty. It was kind of sad.”

Yuri explains the workings of a _Stream!_ night to Otabek with all the patience he can muster while JJ’s voice is drilling holes into his skull with its irritatingly chipper tone. Yuri hangs around for the two hours Victor is paying him for, and then he’s had enough of a dose of JJ to last him a year. The open mic is rather dull this early in the evening, too, mostly just mousey-looking girls with ukuleles and some dude with a bagpipe. Yuri knows the good stuff is most likely coming later, but he can’t stand listening to JJ’s intermission monologues and Georgi’s interpretation of what is a _good_ _sound_ for any given performance.

“Well, I’m out of here,” Yuri says to Otabek as they are hanging at the bar and the clock strikes eight.

“I’ll stay and listen,” Otabek says. “This is interesting.”

Yuri throws him a pitying glance. If listening to JJ rambling about himself in between acts and succumbing to yet another ukulele-accompanied whiny love song is _interesting_ , then Otabek’s life must be dull as fuck.

“Suit yourself,” Yuri mutters. He exits the venue, slapping his palm against Emil’s in a high five on his way out. He walks past the line that is now formed outside and stops to ponder his options.

It’s fucking freezing outside, so he opts for his regular bar that’s only a couple of blocks from Mind You. He only has to work the day after tomorrow, so he might as well toss in a couple of Irish coffees to warm him up from the inside.

 

 

~

 

 

Somehow Yuri is not surprised that he finds himself on the couch in Victor’s office in the morning.

Or well, _morning_ might be a slight understatement, because it’s well into the afternoon when Yuri drags down the office stairs and helps himself to a pint of water behind the bar. The venue is still empty, and a glance at the shift list tells Yuri that no one _should_ show up until six. Fridays are easy in that sense, because the restock has been handled for the week and there are no deliveries until Monday. Of course with this place one can never be sure when someone is going to just show up even if they’re not on shift. It could be Victor, who has some paperwork in the office, or possibly Mila who wants to make drafts for the next shift lists or make sure that last night’s crew has refilled the fridges. Mila has been here almost as long as Yuri, and she’s the only one aside from him and Victor who has a key to the place.

Sometimes Yuri wonders why they all love this place so much. The venue is nothing special. On the outside, it’s a small building that sits between two taller ones like it’s trying to hide. On the inside, it’s small and ratty and dusty and things seem to break at the same pace as they manage to repair them.

But it feels like home. There are so many memories attached to the creaky floorboards, the duct-taped baseboards behind the bar that keep coming loose and the band posters covering all doors in inches-thick stacks of fire hazard. Sometimes Yuri wonders if he started peeling down the posters layer by layer, how far back in time would they go?

Yuri rinses his pint and sets it to dry before leaving, because he’s had Mila bitch at him for leaving pints lying around and he doesn’t need another lecture from her. On his way out, Yuri checks the mail that’s come through the slot in the door and sorts them into junk mail and important stuff. The important stuff he leaves on the bar for Mila or Victor to find and the junk mail he tosses in the trash. Yuri searches for his coat for a while before he finds it on the sound booth floor. Apparently he tossed it in there on his way up to the office last night.

Yuri checks his pockets for his keys and phone and then exits the venue through the back.

The outside world is covered in frost and snow and Yuri nearly slides the entire length of the alley that leads to the main street. The freezing cold feels good, though, because it keeps the hangover-related nausea at bay.

On his way home, Yuri stops to buy a burrito for hangover munchies. He takes the subway home and successfully makes it through the ride without throwing up on anyone’s shoes.

Potya looks at him scornfully when Yuri comes into the apartment. She meows at him and comes to rub against his leg, nudging at him to get to the kitchen.

“Oh come on, you got food last night before I left, it’s not like you’re starving,” Yuri says as he walks into the kitchen and drops the burrito on the counter. He leans down to pet Potya and then digs some food for her from the cupboard. She purrs and bumps against him continuously while he’s opening the can of food and upending it into her bowl. Once the bowl is lowered onto the floor, though, Potya completely ignores him and starts eating.

_Fucking cats._

Yuri eats his burrito while he watches some random shit on netflix and then goes to take a nap.

After he wakes up, Yuri strips his clothes to take a shower and realizes he needs to do laundry if he wants to wear anything other than the leopard-print onesie that’s hanging in his closet.

It might be fun to appear at the club in it, just to see if the expression on Otabek’s face would actually change from the stoic non-expression he seems to have pasted on his face permanently when he’s around Yuri.

Yuri has noticed that Otabek is like that just around him.

Otabek laughs and jokes with Mila and the others at the bar.

Otabek chats good-humoredly with Chris at the door.

He even smiled when he talked with JJ at last night’s _Stream!_ event.

But with Yuri, it’s as if he doesn’t have expressions.

_Stupid Otabek._

 

 

~

 

 

 

The following day, Yuri glances at the performer list and cringes. He whips out his phone to google the night’s main attraction, and _oh jesus_.

Otabek’s stoic presence follows his moves when they go through the sound checks for the warm-ups. Otabek doesn’t follow Yuri around when he leaves the booth in between sets, though, which is simultaneously annoying and a relief.

When the last of the warm-up bands is done, Yuri shoves the headphones into Otabek’s chest.

“Here. You can do the sound for the main artist without me,” Yuri says.

Otabek glances at him. “What, why?”

“Well, it’s almost the end of your training. Georgi is leaving soon, so you need to be able to handle things on your own. I’ll be around the office or something.” Yuri bats his lashes sweetly and leaves Otabek blinking in the sound booth.

The main band that’s performing tonight is called _My Anaconda Don’t_ and apparently they’re a heavy metal band that does Nicki Minaj covers. Yuri wants to protect his delicate eardrums from the horror.

Thankfully Victor’s office is almost soundproof.

Yuri nods in passing to Leo and Phichit who are serving customers behind the bar. He weaves through the crowd gathered around the stage. Yuri slinks to the office stairs under the rope with a _Staff Only_ sign hanging on it, bounces up the stairs to the office and pauses to knock on the door.

Mila opens the door. “Hey, Yura,” she greets. “I was just going over next few weeks’ lists with Victor. But we’re done now, so you can go in.” She holds the door open for him and goes down the stairs with a stack of papers under her arm.

Victor is typing something on his laptop when Yuri closes the door after him and slumps down on the couch.

Victor glances up. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Yuri shrugs. “Life is dull, everything sucks, Otabek is an idiot. Nothing new under the sun.”

Victor smiles at his laptop but doesn’t say anything, just hums under his breath and keeps typing.

“What made you hire him in the first place?” Yuri asks, poking at the armrest of the couch where the seam has ripped and some of the soft filling is peeking out.

Victor looks up and raises an eyebrow. “He has experience, and a good resume and references. _And_ more manners than you’ll ever have.”

Yuri grins at the attempted jab. “Oh shut up, old man, you know you love me.”

Victor glares at him at the words _old man_. “Less and less by the minute.”

Yuri’s grin just widens. He pulls out his phone and checks instagram. He’s also responsible for the venue’s insta account, so he digs around his phone’s photos for a while. When nothing worth posting emerges, Yuri glances around and sees a leftover stack of posters on the corner table advertising the following night’s bands. Yuri gets up and goes to snap a picture of the poster, then posts it on the venue’s instagram with the usual _‘be sure not to miss out tomorrow’s amazing sets #band #musicvenue #clubmindyou’_. Then he sits back down on the couch and fiddles with his own instagram for a moment.

Victor sighs and looks up from the laptop. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something? Like _your job_? Training Otabek? Anything besides hanging here?”

“He’s fine. You just said he has experience,” Yuri points out. “Not like our sound board is that different from whatever he’s worked with before. And besides, he’s seen me work sound on multiple occasions already, so he knows how stuff works. He needs to be able to do this stuff alone anyway when Georgi leaves. He knows where to find me if something goes to shit.”

Victor mutters something that sounds like, “Why do I keep you around?” However, he doesn’t start complaining when Yuri lies down on the couch and kicks his shoes off, which Yuri sees as a sign that his presence in the office is, if not _welcomed_ , at least tolerated.

Yuri can vaguely hear them doing sound check through the door. The band sounds just as awful as one would expect a band to sound when they’re a heavy metal ensemble doing Nicki Minaj covers. He sneaks over to the door at one point to open it so he can see what’s going on. From the office door above the stage one can see almost the entire venue. He sees the band in their ridiculous outfits, and the bar where Mila is ordering Phichit and Leo around. He also has a direct line of sight to the sound booth, and he watches Otabek in the booth, looking focused as he listens to the band’s singer shrieking into the mic. He’s holding the headphones up to one ear like some fucking DJ, and raising a hand every now and then to signal for the shrieking to stop.

He looks very professional. Very cool. Very _hot_.

That’s as far as Yuri’s train of thought gets before the turns on his heel and goes back into the office, slamming the door shut after him.

Yuri swears to god he’s going to strangle Victor at the first comment, but luckily Victor doesn’t say anything, just continues humming under his breath in this annoyingly smug tone as he keeps doing the paperwork behind his desk.

Yuri only comes out of the office when the awful band has ended their set and there is just a playlist on shuffle for the rest of the night. People are filing out of the doors and Phichit is beginning the rounds to collect empty pints around the venue. Yuri goes to the sound booth where Otabek is fiddling with some of the sliders.

Yuri glances around the booth that suddenly looks a lot different, and not just because Otabek is in it. “What did you do?” he demands. In a matter of an hour, Otabek has somehow managed to do sound for the band _and_ rearrange the entire booth. Yuri glares at him. There was a _system_ here. A functioning system.

“I just moved stuff around a bit,” Otabek says evenly. “Now there’s not that stupid bunch of wires covering half of the sliders. It makes it easier to reach everything.”

Yuri glares at the board. He can see how Otabek is right about that, but that’s still no reason to do this without consulting him. Nothing was broken. It didn’t need to be _fixed_.

Fucking stupid Otabek.

Yuri seethes. “It was perfectly fine before,” he spits.

“Yeah, and now it’s better.” Otabek’s voice is still completely emotionless.

Yuri closes his eyes and slowly counts to ten. The _nerve_ of this fucking guy.

Hearing Victor’s voice makes him open his eyes again and turn to face the bar. Victor is standing by the bar in his coat, clearly ready to make his exit for the night, but he can never leave without his nightly flirt round with Yuuri.

Yuri watches as Victor smiles and flirts and Yuuri just keeps wiping the bar with a friendly smile on his face.

Yuri freezes when he hears Victor asking Yuuri what kind of food Yuuri likes, because this is beginning to sound a lot like a date invitation, and that can’t happen _now_ or Phichit is going to win the bet.

“Oh, I like all kinds of food,” Yuuri replies happily. “But my favorite is my mom’s _katsudon_.”

“Oh,” Victor says and seemingly doesn’t know how to continue.

Yuri sees Phichit facepalming in the distance and he has to snort out a laughter at the sight. How can Yuuri be so oblivious? But Victor is ahead of schedule; it’s not Valentine’s Day yet.

_Walk out,_ Yuri chants mentally. _C’mon, be a chicken and don’t ask him out for a couple more weeks. Just walk out._

Victor hovers at the bar for a couple more minutes, but then he walks to the front door and leaves. Yuri sighs in relief.

Phichit groans. “So _close_ ,” he says in a whiny tone and continues gathering the pints and glasses.

“So close what?” Yuuri asks from the bar.

“Nothing,” Phichit says and smiles sweetly. Yuri grins at the sound board. He can’t help but notice that the sound booth really looks neater and easier to work with now, but he can’t just say that to Otabek, now can he?

 

 

~

 

 

A week later, Otabek is weirdly still around. Victor hasn’t fired him during one of his fits and Otabek hasn’t rage-quit and left with a slam of the door even when Yuri sends him down to the basement storage room eight times within half an hour, always coming up something new that he needs from down there.

“ _Douche_ ,” Yuri hears Otabek muttering when he walks down the stairs for the eighth time. Yuri just smiles sweetly when he comes back.

“Now, Otabek—“ he says and then blinks, because finally there is something else than a stoic non-expression on Otabek’s face.

It takes a moment for the realization to hit, but when it does, Yuri wants to facepalm himself into next week.

He did _not_ just call Otabek by his name.

He totally _did_ call Otabek by his name.

_Shit_.

There is a slow smirk spreading on Otabek’s usually expressionless face.

“So you _do_ know how to say my name,” Otabek simply states with a raised eyebrow, slamming the coiled wire into Yuri’s hands. Yuri doesn’t even need the wire right now, he was just messing around with Otabek.

“Whatever,” Yuri mutters and puts the wire on a shelf under the sound board.

Mila walks by with a box of hard lemonade in her arms. “Hey Yura, tomorrow is Georgi’s last shift, we’re gonna do a farewell party after the venue closes at eleven. You’ll be there, right?”

Yuri shrugs. “Sure.”

“And you too, Otabek,” Mila says, adjusting the heavy box against her hip.

Otabek nods and flashes a smile at Mila. “Of course.”

Yuri lets Otabek do the sound while he stands back and watches. Victor was annoyingly right, Otabek has experience. He makes even the shitty local band called _Pencil Fuck-Up_ sound good, which is saying something. Plus when he does sound checks, he always makes the singers say stupid jokes instead of the monotonous one-two-three-test that’s more commonplace. Otabek says it’s more fun for the audience between the sets, and he’s right. The audience seems surprised when the first bad jokes begin pouring in, but after the third band they’ve grown to expect them and there’s a roar of laughter after every joke, each worse than the last.

Yuri has to bite his lip when the bands go through the list of bad jokes Otabek has handed them, but when the singer of _Explosive Sheep_ rattles, “What do you get when you cross a sheep and a porcupine? An animal that can knit its own sweaters,” in a tone that makes it sound like he wishes he was dead, Yuri completely loses it. He doubles over in laughter and has to hide behind the sound booth until the sound check is done.

Otabek looks weirdly smug about this.

 

~

 

Georgi’s farewell party is as expected. Mila presents Georgi with a purple wool sweater as a farewell gift from Mind You workers, because Iceland is cold every time of the year. Georgi cries, clutches the sweater and calls them his heart’s family. There is a round of hugs and despite taking evasive actions when it’s his turn, Yuri still ends up in a bone-crushing hug. He’s covered in Georgi’s hair glitter all over when Georgi finally lets him go, and Yuri spends the rest of the night annoyedly picking sparkly pieces off his clothes and face.

“You missed some,” Otabek says in monotone as he passes Yuri with a beer in hand.

“What, where?” Yuri looks at his clothes. Glitter is a bitch and a menace.

Otabek steps closer and extends a hand. Yuri’s nose scrunches up unwillingly as Otabek plucks something off the tip. Otabek’s finger retreats and there is a tiny sparkling particle on his fingertip.

“Uh, thanks,” Yuri says.

“Aww,” Mila coos nearby and toasts Yuri with her beer bottle.

“Fuck off,” Yuri mutters and backs off from Otabek’s vicinity.

In the days following Georgi’s farewell party, Yuri has to get used to working alone again.

It’s a relief, but simultaneously it’s weird. He’s already gotten used to having Otabek shadow his every move, and now they won’t be seeing each other much because their schedules complement each other but don’t overlap. He hears the others talk about Otabek every now and then, even though he pretends he isn’t listening. Apparently everything is going well for him. The audiences love his corny sound check jokes and he’s earned Mila’s respect by always being unwaveringly polite and nice to everyone.

Well, it’s not like Yuri cares. Whatever.

Yuri keeps bribing Mila by bringing her chocolate and food every now and then so he doesn’t have to work _Stream!_ nights, because he can live without ever hearing JJ’s annoying voice again. The _Stream!_ before Valentine’s Day is the first one Otabek does alone, and the following day there are praising comments all over the venue’s social media accounts, because apparently _Stream!_ has never sounded that good.

Yuri tosses his phone in the other end of the couch in the office where he’s lounging before his shift officially begins.

Victor raises one eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Yuri glares at the phone. “There is a lot of praise on twitter and instagram about last night,” he then continues with a sigh.

“But that’s good,” Victor says, sounding delighted. “I was here only a part of the night but from what I heard it sounded very good.”

Yuri groans and picks the phone up again, rolling his eyes.

He scrolls down instagram and in the ads he sees a florist advertising a bouquet of roses.

_Wait_.

Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day is tomorrow.

“Oh shit, it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow,” Yuri mutters. Not that he cares about Valentine’s Day, but it’s also Chris’s birthday. “Do you have the shift list here? Is Chris working tomorrow?” Yuri looks up from his phone. He needs to get Chris a present, or take him out for a drink or something if he’s not working.

Victor has this glassy look in his eyes as he hands over the shift list. Yuri traces the rows and columns with his finger and lands on February 14th. Chris is working the door while Yuuri, Phichit, Mila and Sara are at the bar, and Otabek is doing sound.

Yuri wrinkles his forehead. Why is there an extra bar worker, though?

He quickly looks over their band schedule on facebook. Ah. There is that semi-famous sappy love-song band _Pink Note Fox_ playing. It makes sense to book them for Valentine’s Day, because it’s a guaranteed full house of sweet-talking couples, and the expected increase in patrons explains the extra bar worker. They even have a pink Valentine’s cocktail on the menu for tomorrow.

Yuri makes a new memo on his phone to buy Chris a present and to bring it over to the venue. Anyway, he might as well come here for the night to watch the show.

He’s not talking about _Pink Note Fox_ , though. He’s talking about the way Victor’s hands tremble and his eyes are currently staring into nothingness.

Victor is clearly planning something, and Yuuri is working tomorrow.

Yuri is so going to be here to see this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://worldofcopperwings.tumblr.com/).  
> -  
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [thoughtsappear](http://thoughtsappear.tumblr.com/) for being there for me. ♥


	3. three

When Yuri walks into the venue through the back door on Valentine’s Day, the place has transformed into some extremely pink level of hell. The napkins are pink. There are pink paper hearts on the Jack Daniels mirror. The stage backdrop is pink with red hearts on it.

There’s so much pink that Yuri wants to vomit.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Otabek asks when Yuri approaches the sound booth.

“Came to see the show,” Yuri says and leans on the booth.

“I didn’t know you were into this kind of sappy shit,” Otabek says, and there is a tiny flicker of amusement on his face.

Yuri glares at him. “I’m _not_. But I can sense there is bet money to be collected.”

“Oh, right, the bet.” Otabek nods. “So you’re willing to stand all this pink because you want to see if Victor is actually going to man up and ask Yuuri out.”

Yuri glances over his shoulder to the bar but luckily there’s only Mila setting up behind the bar right now and Yuuri is nowhere to be seen. “Shh, don’t spoil it. Yeah, that, and it’s also Chris’s birthday.” Yuri holds up a brown paper bag. “Brought the man some whiskey.”

He goes to the front where Chris is talking with Guang Hong, the college student who works at the coatroom on nights when they expect to get more customers than usual. When Yuri approaches, Guang Hong nods before retreating into the coatroom.

Yuri bumps his knuckles against Chris’s. “Hey man, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Chris says and accepts the brown paper bag. “Oh sweet, booze,” he remarks when he looks into the bag. “Did you come here just to hand me this?”

“That and other reasons.” Yuri doesn’t want to tell Chris about his suspicions that Victor is going to make a move tonight, because Chris might find a way to sabotage him out of the bet money. Otabek is not involved in the bet so Yuri doesn’t think it matters if he knows Yuri’s reasons for being here.

“ _Oh_ ,” Chris says and gives him a wink. “Does one handsome sound guy have anything to do with it? It _is_ Valentine’s Day, after all.”

Yuri is pretty sure his mouth opens so much that his jaw drops to the floor. “ _What? No!_ Chris, what the _hell_?” Yuri swats at Chris, who ducks out of the way with the practiced ease of a bouncer who’s had years of experience in dodging flailing drunk customers.

It doesn’t stop Yuri from trying to hit him in the arm again, though.

Chris simply grabs Yuri’s wrist and stops his fist before it can connect with his arm, while still holding onto the whiskey bottle in its paper bag. He’s eyeing Yuri’s other hand warningly. “Tut-tut, Yura. I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”

Yuri seethes. “Why would you assume I’m here because of Otabek?” he hisses, but he doesn’t try to smack Chris again.

Chris looks at him like Yuri is a little slow. “Well, usually the more you yell at someone the more it means you like them. And you’ve been yelling _at_ Otabek and _about_ Otabek for the past few weeks so much that everyone within two blocks’ radius must know how much he annoys you.”

“I—“ Yuri opens his mouth but closes it again. Then he tries again. “I just— _no_.” That’s not _at all_ how it is. Otabek is arrogant and annoying with his stupid stony expressions and his not-giving-a-shit attitude. He’s a fucking thorn in Yuri’s flesh; one he doesn’t need to stand any longer because they won’t be working the same shifts anymore.

Yet here he is, on a night when Otabek is working.

But he’s only here to deliver Chris’s present and to witness Victor finally doing something about his astronomical crush on Yuuri Katsuki.

Which, apparently, is happening right fucking _now_ , because at that exact moment there is a key turned in the lock of the front door and then Victor sails through the door with the biggest fucking bouquet of roses Yuri has ever seen. It’s a red and pink monstrosity sized more like a Christmas tree than a bouquet, and Victor nearly knocks Yuri over with it as he passes.

Chris and Yuri stare after Victor as he goes over to the bar.

Mila looks at the bouquet. “Victor, you shouldn’t have,” she says jokingly, batting her lashes.

“Is Yuuri here?” Victor demands, ignoring Mila’s teasing.

Yuuri chooses that exact moment to appear from the tiny kitchen behind the bar with a tray full of clean glasses. “Oh, hey Victor,” he says with a smile. “Wow, that’s one hell of a bouquet. Who’s it for?”

It feels like every member of the staff is craning their necks to see the scene unfold in front of them. Yuri steps closer and hears Chris following him. Otabek is following the turn of events from the sound booth. From the corner of his eye Yuri sees Sara and Phichit peeking from the breakroom doorway. Hell, even Seung-gil is there, stopped on the stage as if in mid-step, a bunch of wires hanging from his fingers.

“Yuuri,” Victor says. “These are for you. Will you be my Valentine?” He offers the bouquet to Yuuri.

“What?” Yuuri blinks. “Really?” he asks, a blush creeping on his face until he’s approximately the same shade as the roses he’s being offered. Then he accepts the bouquet and Victor looks like he’s just won a million dollars.

Yuri wants to gag.

But he’s also like a hundred and fifty bucks richer, so there’s that.

“Aww yes,” Yuri says and turns to look at Chris. “I win!” He holds out his hand and rubs his fingertips together in front of Chris’s face. Chris just rolls his eyes and hands Yuri a twenty.

After the evening’s Victor Nikiforov show is done, Yuri doesn’t know why he sticks around. After all, he’s already given Chris his present and secured his win in the bet. But he stays anyway, hanging at the bar and talking with Mila when she’s not busy.

It’s not like he has anything better to do, and it’s going to be pink Valentine’s Day hell everywhere tonight, there’s no escaping that. Here he can at least be with someone who understands when Yuri bitches about the sappiness making him want to gag.

“Are you referring to the lovey-dovey band or the lovey-dovey couple at the other end of the bar?” Mila asks. “Or perhaps to the lovely decorations I worked so hard to put up?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, completely deadpan. “Yes to all of this.”

Victor hasn’t left the floor except to go put his coat and Yuuri’s flowers into his office. Other than that, he’s been sitting on a high stool at the end of the bar where Yuuri is serving customers and just staring, occasionally talking with Yuuri when he has time.

Yuuri seems to be permanently stuck with a nice shade of pink tinting his cheeks.

“If it wasn’t so damn busy with all these customers I’d just tell them to go already,” Mila says, rolling her eyes fondly as she passes by with another tray full of pink cocktails.

Yuri glances around and sips the last of his beer. Well, he might as well try and help Mila a bit, so he reaches to pluck a tray from behind the bar and goes around the venue, collecting empty pints and bottles. When he comes back with the tray full, Mila thanks him with a stupid pink cocktail and Yuri rolls his eyes as he accepts the drink.

“This is killing my style,” Yuri complains to Sara, pointing at the pink drink.

“Your what now?” Sara asks mischievously.

Yuri just rolls his eyes again.

He goes to hang by the sound booth for a while, and Otabek just nods and keeps fiddling with the sliders with his headphones on.

Yuri looks at the back of his head with the stupid undercut while Otabek has his back turned, and he thinks about what Chris said earlier.

No, it’s not that.

It can’t be that. Otabek isn’t even his type.

 

~

 

When Yuuri comes in for his shift the following day he has a hickey the size of Jupiter on his neck. Mila teases him mercilessly about it and Yuri goes around, collecting the bet money from everyone involved. To his surprise, even Seung-gil begrudgingly hands him a twenty before vanishing from sight once more. Yuri didn’t even know he was betting.

“I feel rich,” Yuri says, fanning himself with the stack of bills.

“Wait, you were betting on this?” Yuuri asks.

“Since like, December,” Mila says. “Victor really fails at telling about his feelings.”

“Well, considering the size of that hickey, I’d say he’s gotten over that,” Leo says from where he’s crouching to refill the fridge behind the bar.

Yuuri is stacking the clean glasses at the other end of the bar, but he’s turning pink again and his hand sneaks to cover the bitemark on his neck.

“Turtlenecks,” Yuri says when he passes Yuuri. “Turtlenecks are the answer. Not very fashionable, but in this case, definitely helpful. Just don’t pair it with a fanny pack unless you want to go for that _‘The Rock in the 90s’_ vibe.”

He goes into the sound booth and shoves the bet money into his wallet. That ought to get him a few good rum-filled nights in the near future.

He studies the shift list taped on the inside of the booth and stops to stare at the next week’s row.

“Mila!” Yuri shouts. “Mila, _why_ am I doing sound for next week’s _Stream!_? Have I not brought you enough chocolate to last you a lifetime?”

“You have,” Mila replies. “But you still have to do sound for that night because Otabek asked for that night off like two weeks ago,” Mila explains patiently as she’s changing the beer keg under the bar into a new one.

_God dammit._

So Yuri has to endure the egotistical JJ fest for a whole night. Well, between the open mic participants. But that’s entirely too much of JJ anyway.

Yuri lets out a sigh that can be heard on the other side of the city. Then he concentrates on ripping off the annoying pink ribbon someone has tacked around the sound booth for yesterday’s Pink Hell Holiday.

Yuri stomps over to the bar followed by a tail of several yards of ribbon. He hands the other end of the ribbon to Mila. “Here, you can have this back.”

Mila rolls her eyes and starts pulling the ribbon, gathering it around her hand. “Stop being a baby, Yura. You can’t always get the shifts you want. Grow up. Deal with it.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuri says with a nod. “And that’s why you’re always so conveniently absent when it’s _Stream!_ night, right?”

“I’m working next week on _Stream!_ night, same as you,” Mila says.

“Yeah, probably because you wanna watch me suffer from close proximity,” Yuri mutters and stomps back into the sound booth.

“Why do we keep him around again?” Leo asks good-humoredly and leans on the bar.

“Beats me,” Mila says. “I think Victor has a thing for rescuing pathetic little things.”

“I heard that!” Yuri shouts from the booth.

“I meant for you to hear that,” Mila shouts back.

Yuri flips her off and digs out the night’s band list to check out the night’s bands.

He snorts. Someone seriously named their band _Cum-Position_? Like _composition_ but way more juvenile? Oh dear lord, and he gets to suffer through their set that’s probably filled with puns just as awful as their name.

When the band arrives for sound check and spreads their merch on the side table, Yuri seriously considers buying a pin, just because the name is so utterly ridiculous. The bored-looking merch seller sits behind the table chewing gum and hardly glances up when Yuri studies the merch. Yuri decides against buying a pin and instead just ends up snapping a sneaky photo of the merch while the band is setting up onstage.

The night is rather uneventful. _Cum-Position_ sounds just as awful as their name indicates, and Yuri does sound and lights while continuously rolling his eyes either at the band or at Victor, who has somehow managed to plant himself at the end of the bar and is staring at Yuuri again like a lovesick poodle.

The most interesting thing about the night is when Sara’s twin brother appears in mid-set and tries to punch Emil in the face, because apparently Emil has taken Sara out for coffee and according to the sister-protector of the year that just won’t _do_ , because Sara might get _hurt_. Emil calmly dodges the attempted punches until Mila loses her nerve and stomps from behind the bar to the door to tell Mickey to hit the road _now_. Michele Crispino takes one look at Mila’s face and skulks out immediately. Yuri thinks the guy is lucky that he didn’t try to punch Mila too, because Mila would make mincemeat out of him in two seconds flat.

Mila is kind of scary and awesome. Not that Yuri is ever going to tell her that.

The rest of the shift is either staring at the shitty bands onstage or staring at Victor eye-fucking Katsuki over the bar. Well, in a way it’s perfect, because if Victor ever bitches to Yuri about _doing nothing_ on the clock, Yuri can just pull up the twenty-second video  on his phone of Victor practically drooling over Yuuri’s ass when Yuuri’s bent to pick up beer bottles from the fridge. That should get Victor off Yuri’s back a few times.

After his shift, Yuri thinks about going into the nearest bar and blowing his bet money on rum until he can’t remember what Victor’s stupid face looks like when he looks at Yuuri, but in the end he just takes the subway home and watches netflix with Potya curled up on his lap.

 

~

 

For the hundredth time, Yuri wishes he could just get drunk on the job. It would be so much easier, because he gets a lot mellower when he’s drunk, so maybe it would help with the urge to punch JJ’s teeth in.

“Yooo Plisetsky!” JJ greets him like they’re old friends. “How are you man?”

“Fine,” Yuri mutters and accepts the cursory timetable for the night. He glances at the list, which is, as usual, mostly just empty slots for the open mic. There are a couple of in-advance sign-ups, and Yuri does a double take and then groans.

He marches over where JJ is talking with Isabella and points at the in-advance sign-up that reads _King JJ_.

“Does this mean _you’ll_ be singing?” Yuri asks, pointing at the sign-up sheet with a horrified expression.

He has mentally prepared himself to tolerate JJ’s intermission speeches, but this is way beyond any preparations any human could possibly undertake.

“Why yes, it does!” JJ beams. “I’ve been secretly making some songs you know.”

Yuri doubts JJ can actually do anything and keep it a secret for longer than two minutes. The only reason Yuri didn’t know about this is probably because he’s been avoiding JJ as much as possible.

“C’mon, Plisetsky, don’t look so sour. Who knows, you might end up enjoying the show!” JJ has the audacity to wink after this ridiculous claim.

Yuri simply raises one disbelieving eyebrow. It’s no use trying to object to JJ’s bouts of egotism. It would be about as useful as trying to shout down a solid rock wall.

“Whatever,” Yuri says. “Sound check in five.”

“See you there,” JJ says with a wide grin. “Oh, there’s Mila! Hi Mila! Long time, no see!” He bounces off to the bar and starts talking a mile a minute.

It does make Yuri feel a bit better to see Mila standing behind the bar, her expression about as pained as Yuri’s is. Yuri grins widely at Mila over JJ’s shoulder as he marches back into the sound booth to check everything is ready for when JJ inevitably shouts his signature _JJ style_ catchphrase.

Yuri honestly doesn’t consider muting the mic when JJ does the catchphrase during sound check.

Nope.

Not even a little.

Okay, he totally does consider it. He doubts anyone would blame him.

When the doors open, people start pouring in. Some of the performers only come in to sign up and then go elsewhere until their time slot is up, which is kind of a shitty thing to do, but then again, Yuri would probably do the same thing if he was performing at the open mic. Because seriously, some of the artists onstage are not as brilliant as others.

To JJ’s credit it must be said that he at least is unwaveringly encouraging about every performance. Yuri knows he himself could not plaster a polite smile on his face and utter sincere-seeming words of support to someone who has just spent fifteen minutes on the stage torturing their instrument and mewling like a cat in heat, but JJ does it. He makes it sound he like believes in them; every one of them.

Yuri begrudgingly has to admit that perhaps there is something good about having JJ host the _Stream!_ nights.

Twenty minutes later, Yuri is ready to take the sentimental thoughts about JJ back and bury them in the backyard, because JJ himself climbs onstage with a keyboard. Yuri sighs and tries to prepare for the worst as JJ sets up and then shouts into the microphone, “Heeeey party people, I’ve got a surprise for you! Tonight you will get an exclusive sneak peek of songs written by none other than me, King JJ himself!”

The audience applauds with the reserved politeness they applaud everyone who comes onstage, but JJ doesn’t let it slow him down.

Yuri wants to shut him out, but since he’s responsible for sound, unfortunately that is not an option. He has to live through the set and actually listen to what’s going on.

It’s… surprisingly not that bad.

The melody is a bit basic, but JJ has a decent voice and he’s charismatic enough to seduce the audience with his stupid songs about love. Because they are about love. Every single one of them.

Yuri glances at the bar, where Mila is standing looking like she wants to gag but keeping her face carefully neutral. Isabella is occupying one of the high barstools, and she’s staring intently at her fiancé currently belting out something about eternal love and sweet summer kisses. Yuri blinks, because it looks like Isabella is actually _crying_.

Yuri’s not sure if it’s because she loves the song or because it’s so awful.

Yuri would say it’s awful. But then again, Isabella already tolerates JJ on daily basis, so she must be immune to his obnoxiousness by now.

When JJ’s set ends, Yuri mentally congratulates himself because he survived it.

There are only a couple of slots left, and Yuri is looking forward to the end of the night. He’s definitely deserved a drink or three after this.

He glances at the next slot in the list where it’s specified that it’s going to be a solo acoustic guitar set. Not much in terms of sound. Yuri turns over to the stage when JJ introduces the following performer.

“Alright, are you ready for this next one? I bet you’re not! Because boy, was I surprised when I realized it’s Mind You’s newest sound guy who’s going to take over the stage now. Give it up for _Otabek Altin_!”

JJ bounces off the stage and Yuri’s world freezes over.

Yuri watches as Otabek climbs on the stage with scattered applause in the background, an acoustic guitar strapped around his neck. He watches as Otabek sits down on the single high stool that was brought onstage; watches as Otabek adjusts the mic in front of him.

Otabek leans closer to the mic. “Hi. I, uh. I’m not one for talking much, so I’ll just let my songs do the talking. Hope you like them.” Otabek gives the guitar a tentative strum, and the instrument lets out a few soft chords that float above the audience. It’s suddenly very quiet at the club.

Yuri dims the other stage lights and slams a single spotlight on Otabek with trembling hands, then brings the headphones to his ear to mechanically check that the amp connected to the mic sounds okay. He adjusts a few of the sliders, but then he drops the headphones around his neck and simply stares and listens.

It is captivating.

Otabek’s voice is deep and soft and the song he sings is not so much carried by the simple melody but by the way his words pour out, raw and strong. Yuri doesn’t catch all the words, but he can tell it’s a love song. Just not the usual kind of love song. There’s none of that sappy _together forever_ bullshit, there’s just a promise that it’s okay to trust someone and let them close.

Which, granted, is still kind of sappy, but it’s the _tolerable_ kind of sappy.

Otabek’s hands hold the guitar in a sure way, like the feel of the instrument is so familiar that it’s more of an extension of him than a separate item. He doesn’t look at the audience a lot, instead focusing his gaze on the floor right in front of the mic stand, but on occasion he tosses his head back to get a stubborn lock of hair off his forehead, and during one of these fleeting moments his eyes lock onto Yuri.

Otabek’s eyes drill into his skull even across the distance from the stage to the sound booth. Yuri stares back, unable to look away until Otabek’s eyes are once again lowered to the floor.

The next song is more upbeat and Yuri feels like he can breathe again. He swallows and looks over at the bar, where Mila, Sara and Yuuri have gathered to gawk at Otabek’s performance, the customers momentarily forgotten. Even Victor has managed to tear his eyes off Yuuri and all eyes are on Otabek with his guitar under a single spotlight, singing like he’s alone in the room.

Yuri’s eyes shift from his coworkers back to the figure onstage and he startles as he realizes two things at once.

One, that Otabek is no longer the New Guy to anyone at the venue. He takes all their bullshit jokes and the shitty tasks he’s given with an expressionless acceptance and an occasional amused quirk of his lips. He jokes with Mila and Sara. He helps Phichit clean the tables after closing. He fist bumps Chris in passing. He helps everyone with any task, no matter how far it is from his vague-to-begin-with job description. He’s managed to worm his way into the venue’s employee roster in a way that looks like he’s actually going to stay. The thought makes Yuri’s heart clench in his chest in a weird way.

Which leads him to realizations number two, which is that he’s kind of stupidly crushing on Otabek. _Otabek_ , of all people; with his annoying stoic presence and his stupid handsome undercut and his way of raising one eyebrow when Yuri gives him shit. Otabek, who minutes ago walked onstage and captured the attention of everyone in the audience.

_Along with your heart._

Yuri shakes his head to banish the stray thought. _Jesus_ , he might have a fucking _crush_ on the guy but that is _not_ a Yuri Plisetsky kind of thought. That is the kind of sap he rejects with all his being.

Yet, he can’t help but stare at Otabek, who is now on his third and final song, strumming through the chorus and letting the last chord fade away naturally.

When he gets up, the audience bursts into cheers and the applause lasts long after he’s walked off-stage. JJ comes in and Yuri immediately tunes him out, because if there is one thing that can ruin the previous ten minutes for him, it’s listening to JJ sing words of praise about Otabek’s performance.

Otabek’s performance needs no praise. The performance itself and the audience’s reaction to it are enough.

Yuri sees Otabek pick up a guitar case from the side of the stage and carefully pack the instrument away. JJ is still making noises onstage, but Yuri’s eyes are trained on Otabek as he walks across the venue and stops beside the sound booth.

“Hey,” Yuri manages to say. “So. That was cool.”

“Thanks,” Otabek says with a small nod. “Can I leave my guitar in there for a while?”

“Uh. Sure.” Yuri takes the guitar case and sets it down in the corner of the booth. He watches as Otabek weaves his way through the crowd to the bar, where Mila promptly holds a hand up and slaps it against Otabek’s palm in a high five.

Sara and Mila are smiling and talking to Otabek animatedly, and even Victor comes over to slam a friendly hand on Otabek’s shoulder.

They all look so comfortable together.

Yuri noticed that Otabek doesn’t come over to the sound booth until he wants to pick up his guitar and leave.

He jokes and acts comfortable around everyone but Yuri.

It stings a little, although it’s kind of understandable. Yuri has been giving him so much shit that he probably doesn’t want anything to do with Yuri anymore. Perhaps he’s even glad he doesn’t need to do shifts with Yuri anymore.

Yuri zones back in right when the next performer climbs onstage. He does the sound and light for the rest of the night as if his mind isn’t really even there.

After the venue closes, Yuri doesn’t stay around to chat. Instead he walks to the nearest pub and orders the biggest fucking drink they have on the menu.

He sits in the shady corner of the bar, thinking about what to do about the realization number two.

For the first time in his life, Yuri actually regrets being a jerk to someone.

Is it too late to salvage things between him and Otabek?

_What things?_ his brain asks. There weren’t any _things_ to begin with, just a couple of coworkers who didn’t really get along from the start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://worldofcopperwings.tumblr.com/).  
> -  
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [thoughtsappear](http://thoughtsappear.tumblr.com/) for being there for me. ♥


	4. four

Salvaging things—or _lack of things_ , whatever—with someone Yuri barely sees proves to be very difficult. He doesn’t see Otabek when he’s working because they never work the same shifts anymore. He catches a glance of Otabek next Wednesday when Yuri is in dealing with beer deliveries before the venue opens and Otabek happens to come in for his shift early.

Otabek just nods at Yuri shortly and goes into the sound booth, putting the headphones on and fiddling with a few sliders absently.

Yuri shifts his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating in the doorway, but in the end he just leaves without saying anything to Otabek. Chris casts a meaningful glance at him right before Yuri closes the door after him, and Yuri flips him off. What does Chris think he know about anything?

Well, he knew about Yuri’s stupid crush before Yuri himself did, so there’s that.

_Brave, Plisetsky_ , Yuri tells himself as he walks down the street, shivering in the cold February weather. He kicks a plastic cup someone has discarded on the sidewalk and grits his teeth together. _You could have just walked over to Otabek, say sorry for being a jerk and ask if you can take him out sometime to make up for it._

But apologizing has never really been his forte.

He spends the next week going through his shifts mechanically and spending the time between shifts either at his regular bar or at home hugging Potya. The cat probably thinks he’s gone crazy because she’s never gotten this much cuddles in her life before.

His brain tries to tell him he’s using the poor animal as a substitute for someone else. Yuri shoves the thought to the back of his mind.

The following Saturday finds Yuri in his bed at four in the afternoon. Potya is curled up next to him and Yuri is staring at the ceiling when his phone starts buzzing beside him.

“Hey, Mila,” Yuri says after accepting the call. “What’s up?”

_“Yura, I need you to do me a huge favor,”_ Mila says. _“I’m on my way to work and I’m almost at the venue but I forgot my keys at home. Can you come let me in? You live closer and it would take me ages to drive back home to fetch the keys. Please please please, I promise you won’t have to endure another JJ fest at least for two months if you do this_. _”_

“Ugh, can’t you call Victor?” Yuri rolls to his side and blinks. “He might already be there.”

_“Victor has a meeting with Yakov’s associate. Please, Yura. I’d owe you big time.”_

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.”

He drops the phone on the mattress and sits up. It’s so unlike Mila to forget her keys. She’s usually so organized. Yuri wrinkles his forehead at the thought, and then his eyes lock on the cat-themed calendar hanging on the wall. _Oh, so that’s it._

He takes an extra two minutes to comb through his hair and search for a clean shirt. After all, he doesn’t want to show up to his own surprise birthday party looking like a truck reversed over him.

Mila nearly got him this year. She’s very cunning with her plans.

Mila is shivering behind the back door when Yuri walks over, hands in pockets. She’s taking the act really seriously.

“Thanks so much for doing this,” Mila says, reaching for the key Yuri offers her.

“Uh-huh,” Yuri says. Mila unlocks the door and hands the key back, and for a moment Yuri thinks she might have actually just forgotten her keys, because she doesn’t make a move to invite him in with her.

Mila steps in and looks at Yuri in a _you can go now_ way, but when she’s just about to close the door she stops. “Oh hey, while you’re here, can you help me out with something?” she asks.

Yuri shrugs and follows her in.

The venue is dark, but Yuri still doesn’t flinch when the lights suddenly blink on and there’s a shouted “surprise!” coming from behind the bar.

“Aww damn, you guessed,” Mila says when Yuri turns to grin at her. “Well, happy birthday anyway.”

“It’s your own fault,” Yuri tells her as she engulfs him into a hug. “I happened to glance at the wall calendar _you_ gave me for last Christmas.”

“God dammit!” Mila curses. “I’m never getting you a calendar again.”

The rest of Yuri’s coworkers file out from their hiding spots and come to congratulate him. Sara kisses him on the cheek and tells him he’s an asshole, but happy birthday anyway. Phichit hugs him so tightly that Yuri has to step on his toes—as lightly as he can—to get him to let go. Chris and Emil fist-bump him and Chris slams a hand on his shoulder. “So, Plisetsky, _twenty-five_. How does it feel?”

“Fucking old,” Yuri says.

Chris gives him a look. “Now don’t start. When you’re over thirty you can complain, not before that.”

Victor is there with his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. Leo brings Yuri a birthday drink from behind the bar and there’s a toast.

Music starts blaring from the speakers, and Yuri looks to the sound booth.

Of course they had to drag Otabek into this as well.

Yuri swallows and his mouth goes dry when Otabek walks over. Otabek’s hair is swept back and he’s wearing a shirt so tight that Yuri could count his fucking ribs, if they were visible under the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

“Happy birthday, Yuri,” Otabek says.

The handshake is awkward, and not just because everyone seems to be following their moves in the background. Yuri can practically _feel_ Mila’s stare as pinpricks on the back of his neck.

“Okay, enough staring, where’s my cake?” Yuri says, pulling his hand free from Otabek’s grasp and turning to glare at the rest of them.

“Did somebody think to order a cake?” Mila says, slapping a hand on her mouth.

“Phichit, I thought you were supposed to get the cake,” Sara says, pointing a finger at Phichit.

“No, I specifically remember that you said to Leo that he needs to get the cake,” Phichit remarks.

Yuri crosses his hands over his chest and stares at the scene unfolding in front of him. “This could go on for a while,” he says to no one in particular. Okay, he says it to Otabek, because Otabek is the only one who is close enough and possibly listening, as the rest of them are in the middle of a bickering round of who was supposed to get the cake.

“Are they always like this?” Otabek asks beside him.

“Pretty much,” Yuri says with a grin. “Great, isn’t it?”

He sees it from the corner of his eye; a minuscule smile spreading on Otabek’s lips. “Yeah. I guess.”

Perhaps all is not lost.

“Just you wait until they start ordering you sparkly dildos online,” Yuri says and elbows Otabek lightly in the arm.

“So I’ve really made the cut, then,” Otabek mumbles.

“Uh-huh. It’s not official until you get a sparkly dildo, though.”

Otabek actually laughs at this, and Yuri’s heart does a weird thing in his chest.

Finally, after a long bout of back-and-forth accusing, the cake is brought out of the tiny kitchen behind the bar. Weirdly, it’s actually Seung-gil, who sets the cake on the table and wishes Yuri a happy birthday in complete monotone and then vanishes just as quickly as he appeared.

One of these days Yuri is going to find out what Seung-gil does around here.

But it is not this day. Right now he’s too busy, because there is cake to be had and Chris is staring at it in a way that indicates that if Yuri doesn’t take his share it will not be there for long.

Yuri retreats to the sound booth and sets his drink and his cake plate on the edge. He glances at the laptop. The playlist Otabek has put on is not one of Yuri’s own, but there’s some good music on it. Yuri sips on his birthday drink and munches on his birthday cake and looks around him. Victor is being disgusting and feeding Yuuri cake off his plate, Sara and Mila are sitting on the bar with their legs dangling above the floor. Emil is chatting up Sara, and Mila is rolling her eyes at them and stuffing so much cake in her mouth that it looks like her cheeks might pop. Chris is sitting on one of the high stools with his legs spread as usual, and Phichit is taking pictures of everyone and probably rapid-fire posting them on his instagram. Leo is fiddling with a shaker behind the bar—he’s actually getting pretty good at the bartender tricks he’s been practicing during the off-hours. He only drops the empty shaker once while twirling it. Otabek is sitting at the bar, eating cake and talking with Leo, and somehow Yuri gets stuck staring at his side profile.

It's a nice side profile.

“Hey Yuri, you want another drink?” Leo shouts.

“Sure. Are you going to drop the shaker? It would make my day,” Yuri tells him as he walks over with his cake plate. He sets the plate on the bar and climbs on a barstool that’s next to Otabek.

Leo just flips him off before tossing ingredients into the shaker.

“Bet you five he drops it,” Yuri says to Otabek when Leo begins twirling the shaker in his hands, tossing it behind his back and catching it with his other hand.

“You’re on,” Otabek replies.

Two minutes later Yuri has five bucks less in his wallet and a really well mixed drink in his hand.

“So you’re working tonight?” Yuri asks Leo.

“Sadly, yeah, so I can’t make one for myself or Otabek here.”

Victor and Yuuri excuse themselves before long. Victor tells Mila to hold the fort and Mila salutes him mockingly. “They have a date,” she tells Yuri, jumping off the bar. “I’m gonna take over his office. I’m gonna mess up his porcelain ballerina collection on the shelf and drink all his Russian tea. Then I’m gonna put my feet up on his table and blow bubbles in the office or something.”

“You have the makings of a great Mafia boss,” Yuri tells her seriously.

One by one they all disappear to handle their nightly duties. Sara and Emil leave, because neither of them have a shift tonight. Yuri feels kind of touched they came over just for his party. He does notice that they leave together and go in the same direction, though, and he smirks at the sight. He almost hopes that idiot brother or hers is going to stop by, because both Chris and Mila are working tonight. Between the two of them, Mickey is going to become a human pretzel if he so much as lifts a finger. Now that would be a birthday sight.

Yuri sips the last of his drink and considers his options. He could go somewhere to celebrate his birthday.

Or he could stay here where his friends are and celebrate his birthday.

Yuri walks up the stairs to Victor’s office to pester Mila while the rest of them are preparing for the doors opening in half an hour. Phichit and Leo are setting up behind the bar, while Otabek does sound check with a band called _Underline Cute_. Their merch shirts and tote bags just have the word _‘cute’_ written all over them. Underlined, of course.

Yuri has to admit it’s kind of clever.

Mila doesn’t even look up when Yuri comes into the office. He slumps down on the couch while Mila works on something on the laptop on Victor’s desk. She does have a cup of tea in front of her, but other than that she’s doing none of the things she threatened to do. Victor’s collection of porcelain ballerinas is untouched and there aren’t any bubbles in sight. Yuri mentions off-handedly how he came here to see her revolt, but instead she’s just working on shift lists or something else boring.

Mila glances at him. “Shut up or you’ll have to babysit JJ for a month,” she states dryly.

Yuri gasps and slams a hand over his heart. “You wouldn’t! I’m twenty-five now, my old heart can’t take it anymore!”

“Har har,” Mila says. “Funny.”

Well, she _is_ a couple of years older, so she must feel _ancient_ right now. Yuri knows better than to say that out loud, though. He finishes the second drink Leo made him and sets the glass down on the table next to the couch.

Yuri posts a couple of new photos on the venue’s instagram account and then plays on his phone for a while. Mila sips her tea and types something in the laptop.

Yuri can hear the first band go on, and he decides to see if their lyrics are as clever as their merch.

He turns at the door and looks at Mila, who is biting her lip in concentration.

“Hey Mila,” Yuri says, hanging the empty drink glass from his fingers. “Thanks. For today, I mean.”

“Of course, Yura,” Mila says. “What would we do without our resident asshole?”

“You’d be bored,” Yuri remarks and blows Mila a kiss.

“That we would be. Now go spend your birthday somewhere else than my office,” Mila says authoritatively.

Yuri smirks. “ _Your_ office? So this _is_ a revolt?”

“ _Vive la résistance_ ,” Mila deadpans. “Go.”

Yuri walks down the stairs while the band are on their second song. He goes to discard the empty drink glass at the bar, and Leo doesn’t let him go until he has another one in his hand.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Yuri asks.

“You’re a lot more fun when you’re drunk,” Leo says unashamedly.

“Also less of an asshole,” Phichit chimes in with a wide smile.

“Screw you guys,” Yuri mutters, but he toasts his drink in their direction anyway. “Thanks for the drink.”

He makes his way to the door where Chris is currently arguing with someone about whether their ID is valid.

“No, I don’t think so,” Chris says. “I am confiscating this because it’s fake as fuck. Leave the premises, please, or do I need to escort you out?”

“What do you mean it’s fake?” pipes the tiny-looking guy who can’t be older than seventeen.

Chris gives the kid a look. “Because you were not born on February 30th. _No one_ was born on February 30 th, because that date doesn’t _exist_ in our calendar. Get yourself someone who doesn’t screw you over while forging documents, kid. Now fuck off before I call the cops on you.”

The kid flushes red down to his neck. He stomps out through the line of people who are currently laughing at his misfortune.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Yuri says to the kid’s retreating back.

Chris chuckles. “I gotta hand it to the forger, though, I wouldn’t have caught it if it wasn’t for the date of birth.” He flashes the fake ID at Yuri before shoving it into his pocket.

“Clever way to get the kid caught, though,” Yuri says and sips the drink in his hand.

Yuri is starting to feel the alcohol warming him up from the inside. He decides it’s better to go to the sound booth now and not later when he might say something he regrets.

Otabek has the headphones on when Yuri climbs into the booth, but he drops them around his neck. “What’s up, birthday boy?”

“Free booze, can’t complain,” Yuri says and toasts his drink in Otabek’s direction.

The song ends and Otabek pushes a few sliders up for the next one. “So you plan to get blackout drunk and have Mila carry you to the couch or something?”

Yuri side-glances at him. “I don’t know. So what if I do? It’s my birthday, I can do that if I want to.” He tries to tone down the defensiveness of his voice but he can’t help it if the words come out as snarky. What’s it to Otabek anyway if he gets wasted? He sips his drink angrily.

Otabek smirks down at the sound board. “Okay. So it’s going to be approximately like that one time when you walked up to me in a bar and hit on me with a line from that one guy who got famous when Vine was still a thing?”

Yuri blinks and nearly chokes on his drink.

“I. _What?_ ”

Otabek cranes his neck and stares at Yuri with unblinking, amused eyes. “Thomas Sanders, _you wanna put your mouth on my mouth_?”

_No_. No _fucking_ way. This can _not_ be happening.

Yuri stares at the floor and wills it to swallow him while he’s desperately scanning his brain for all the possible nights when this could have happened. There have been nights when he’s been _drunk_ , sure, but not that many when he wouldn’t remember what happened.

Especially if _that_ happened.

Was it before or after Otabek started working at Mind You?

Before Yuri has time to conjure up any clever words, Otabek continues, “It was the night before I came in for my interview. I’d already applied for the job and had been called in for the interview, and it was a surprise to see you here when I came in for the interview the following day.”

Yuri wants to suffocate to death right now. _The floor is lava. Please let the floor be lava so me and everyone else here will be burned alive and I don’t have to stand here and witness my own embarrassment._

“So I kind of figured you didn’t remember with the way you talked to me the next day.” Otabek shrugs and brings the headphones to his ear and adjusts the bass drum a little. “Or didn’t _want_ to remember.”

Yuri doesn’t even hear the band playing in the background anymore. He stands frozen while Otabek drops the headphones back down around his neck and turns to face Yuri. “But then I also figured you’re kind of an ass, so there’s that.”

Yuri cringes at the words. Truer words have never been uttered, but this is not very good when it’s coming from a guy Yuri kind of wants to kiss. A lot.

“I, uh. Yeah. Sorry,” Yuri mutters and then dashes out of the sound booth.

He walks over to the far end of the bar and sits down on a barstool, setting his drink on the bar. He stares at the drink in front of him and his brain is just a whole lot of static noise and someone repeatedly screaming _fuck fuck fuuuuuck_.

The band finishes their set and there is a generic playlist put on while the next band gets ready to carry their instruments onstage. Yuri very pointedly doesn’t look in the direction of the sound booth.

“What’s wrong?” Phichit asks from behind the bar.

“I’m an ass,” Yuri states.

“Well duh, tell me something I don’t know,” Phichit says good-humoredly. When Yuri doesn’t smirk or laugh, he grows serious. “Really, what’s up?”

“I apparently did something really stupid and I think Otabek hates me,” Yuri mutters and sips his drink. _Fuck it_ , he then decides and just downs the rest of the thing in one big gulp and shoves the empty glass at Phichit. “How do I apologize?”

“Well, you started off pretty well by saying ‘ _sorry_ ’, but then you ran off before I got the chance to say anything in return,” Otabek’s voice says from behind him.

Yuri all but slams his forehead on the bar. Is there no end to this day’s round of humiliations?

_Please let the floor be lava._

Someone sits down on the barstool next to him. He doesn’t need to be a fucking medium to know it’s Otabek. “Can’t you just let me wallow in self-pity in peace?” Yuri asks the polished wood surface of the bar.

There is a chuckle. “I could, but this is way more fun.”

“And _I’m_ the asshole?” Yuri snorts. He turns his head resting on the bar to glare at Otabek through his hair. He slowly sits up and turns to face Otabek.

Otabek is staring at him, and Yuri feels heat creeping up on his cheeks. Stupid Otabek, with his smirking face and his undercut and his eyebrows, one of which is currently raised in clear sign of amusement. Yuri knows his blackout-drunk self has totally made a beeline for _that_ , because who has he been kidding, Otabek totally _is_ his type. But to use a fucking Thomas Sanders line to try to hit on someone?

_Unacceptably lame._

Phichit is slowly backing away behind the bar.

“So did you?” Yuri finally asks.

“Did I what?”

“Put your mouth on my mouth?”

Otabek laughs. “No. I wanted to see if you still wanted to do the same when you weren’t, well…”

“So blackout drunk that I’d use a fucking cheesy pickup line like _that_?”

“Something like that.” Otabek glances over his shoulder. “So I should probably go finish up, the last band is about to go on.”

Yuri just nods, turning to stare at the Jack Daniels mirror behind the bar.

Otabek slides off the barstool and goes back to the sound booth, and Yuri’s eyes move from the mirror to follow him without consent. It’s not like he _wants_ to follow Otabek with his eyes like some lovesick fool.

Or maybe he does.

God, he’s almost as bad as Victor. Yuri groans and turns back to where Phichit has re-materialized behind the bar and is now grinning like a cat that has just swallowed a delicious hamster.

“Soooo. You gonna do something about that?” Phichit plants his elbows on the bar and leans his chin into his cupped hands, batting his lashes at Yuri.

Yuri tries to stare him down, but once again Phichit only smiles wider.

Yuri sighs and tosses a twenty on the bar. “Shut up and get me a beer.” Anything to stop Phichit’s smirking for a moment.

Yuri stays at the bar, nursing his beer and listening to the last band of the night. If anyone asked his opinion on it afterward, he couldn’t tell either way because he can’t hear any of it. All he can hear are some embarrassing fragments of the conversation he’s had with Otabek tonight, and momentarily Yuri considers just blowing it off and ditching. He’s lived twenty-five years without Otabek, he can survive another twenty-five if he needs to.

But he stays, sipping the slowly-warming beer until the venue lights blink on and the last customer has been shoved out the door.

Around him, Phichit and Leo are cleaning up and Yuri can hear the playlist cut off, leaving the venue in a state of dread-filled quietness. Or maybe the sense of dread is just in Yuri’s head, but he finally goes to pour the rest of the beer down the drain through the sink behind the bar. He drops the bottle into the trashcan reserved for glass bottles and ventures to steal a glance at the sound booth.

“Honestly, I thought you’d make a run for it,” Otabek states dryly when Yuri finally walks over and stops next to the booth.

Yuri glares at him. “Hey, I might be an asshole but I’m not a coward.”

Otabek gives him a disbelieving glance and smiles at the sound board.

“I saw that,” Yuri mutters. Otabek must have taken lessons from Phichit or something, because his smile only grows wider. That asshole.

“So anyway,” Yuri says and then pauses. So anyway, _what_? He has no fucking clue what to say next.

Otabek’s eyes turn to him and he looks expectant. The pressure doesn’t make it any easier to apologize.

“I know you think I’m a jerk but can I just… I don’t know, take you out and make up for it?” Yuri stares at Otabek’s fingers, paused on one of the sliders of the sound board.

There is a soft chuckle. “And maybe then I can put my mouth on your mouth?”

Jesus, Yuri is never going to live this down, is he?

“Ass,” Yuri mutters. “But yeah, something like that.”

Phichit whoops loudly somewhere in the background. “Mila! Come downstairs, you won!”

Yuri turns to glare at Phichit so quickly his neck lets out a pop. “You assholes were _not_ betting on this.”

“No,” Leo says, leaning on the mop he’s cleaning the floor with. “Oh wait, we _were_. But only since like day one when Otabek started working here. You’re so obvious, Plisetsky.”

“ _Obvious_ and completely _oblivious_ to it at the same time,” Phichit supplies.

For the third time this night Yuri wishes the floor would either swallow him or turn to lava. He’s pretty sure everyone can see the blush creeping on his face.

Chris comes over from the door, waving a twenty. “So I hear these two idiots finally agreed to go out on a date.” He has a shit-eating grin on his face and if Yuri didn’t know Chris could tie him into a knot, he’d try to punch Chris right about now.

Mila walks down the stairs behind the stage, doing a victory sign with her fingers all the way. “Sweet, now I can go on a shopping spree!”

Yuri glares at all of them when one by one, everyone starts handing Mila money.

Otabek glances at Yuri mischievously, then goes to add a twenty in the pile that is gathering on Mila’s palm.

Yuri stares at him incredulously. “You _dick_. You were seriously not in on this!”

“Hey, it only shows that he actually believed that you’d come around and dig your head out of your ass some day,” Phichit says in an amused tone and ruffles Yuri’s hair in passing.

“I hate all of you,” Yuri states through gritted teeth.

“We love you too,” Mila says, blowing him a kiss. “And at least you don’t fail as bad as Victor, I mean from September to February versus your, like, one month of pining.”

“I was not pining!”

“You were totally pining. Like big time.”

“I was _not_. _Pining_.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Mila says.

“Well fuck you all. I’m gonna go kiss this man now.” Yuri flips them off and drags Otabek to the breakroom by the arm.

Chris whoops loudly behind them as Yuri slams the door shut.

Otabek’s face is a weird combination of smug and shy when Yuri presses him against the wall, their faces inches apart.

Yuri glares at him. “You were betting on when I was going to ask you out,” he says accusingly.

Otabek’s expression turns more smug and less shy. “Well, technically the bet was more something along the lines of, _when were you going to realize you like my stupid face and do something about it_. It was kind of fun to observe.”

Yuri sighs and resigns himself to a life of endless smug grins and mockery. “Well, I think I’ve asked you this before but I’ll ask you again: do you wanna put your mouth on my mouth?”

“Well, you’re no Thomas Sanders but I guess you’ll do.”

Really. _Endless_ mockery. It’s too bad Otabek is too cute to hate, so Yuri just plants his lips on Otabek’s to at least _silence_ the mockery for a moment.

Like everything else about Otabek, of course his lips have to be ridiculously nice too, and they seem to fit perfectly against Yuri’s. Yuri could stay here forever, pressing Otabek into the wall with his body and kissing him roughly, but things down south are starting to wake up and Yuri has _some_ standards about where he’s willing to perform sexual acts. The venue breakroom is _not_ on the list.

“You, uh, wanna leave?” he asks as he pulls back, slightly out of breath.

“Yeah.” Otabek’s eyes are dark, and as he moves just a bit, Yuri notices he’s not unaffected by the last two minutes of Yuri pressing against him either. Knowing Otabek’s annoying perfectness, his cock is probably going to be fucking perfect as well.

Yuri is so going to stick around to find out if that’s the case.

 

~

 

 

When they walk out of the breakroom a few minutes later, they’re greeted with a lot of whistles and whoops.

“You’re all dead to me,” Yuri states in an even tone and stares at them with narrowed eyes. He then continues with a grin, “Pretty good birthday, though. See all you jerks tomorrow!”

They walk out of the venue, passing Seung-gil who nods and vanishes into the coatroom.

“I always wanted to ask,” Otabek says seriously when they get outside the venue and his hand searches Yuri’s as if on autopilot. “That dude we just saw, the one who walks around carrying a bunch of wires…”

Yuri stares down at their hands and smiles. “You mean Seung-gil?”

“Yeah. _What does he do?_ ”

Yuri laughs. “I have no idea.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I thoroughly enjoyed writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. :)  
> -  
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://worldofcopperwings.tumblr.com/).  
> -  
> Thanks to my wonderful beta [thoughtsappear](http://thoughtsappear.tumblr.com/) for being there for me. ♥


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